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CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE 
GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK    •    nOSTON   •    CHICAGO  •    DALLAS 
ATLANTA   •    SAN    FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Lijiitsd 

LONDON  •  BOMBAY  •  CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


L  Calif ornian  Trails,  Intimate 
Guide  to  the  Old  Missions 

The  Story  of  the  California  Missions 

By 
TROWBRIDGE  HALL 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1920 

All  Rights  Reserved 


COPTRIGHT,  1920, 

By  the  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  December,  1920. 


DEDICATED  TO 

O.  T. 

SOMETIME  THOUGHTLESS  WANDERER 

ALL  TIMES   BELOVED 'COMRADE 


A  FOREWORD 

Bancroft  &  Co.  "milled"  tome  after  tome  upon  California 
and  the  Pacific  Coast.  Hittel,  the  historian,  followed  with  seven 
or  eight  royal  octavos,  and  the  learned  Father  Zephyrin  Engelhardt 
compiled  from  mission  records  five  thick  pithy  volumes.  These 
three  practically  exhaust  all  original  sources.  To  go  behind  them 
would  be  a  sheer  waste  of  time  and  so,  almost  all  who  follow  have 
dug  with  unblushing  freedom  in  their  treasure  piles. 

The  writer  of  this  book  is  no  exception  to  the  rule.  He  freely 
acknowledges  deep  indebtedness  to  these  three  historians;  and  also 
to  Messrs.  James,  Saunders  and  Chase,  as  well  as  to  many  lesser 
lights  who  "loaned"  tid-bits  from  odds  and  ends  of  book  and 
pamphlet.  He  hopes  to  have  brought  to  the  surface  such  historic 
facts,  chit-chat  and  fable  as  will  be  of  interest  even  to  the  casual 
reader  and  traveler. 

Appreciation  is  also  due  the  artist-photographers,  Messrs. 
C.  C.  Pierce,  Taylor,  Putnam  and  Valentine,  whose  pictures  appear 
in  the  book.    To  them  and  others — all  thanks. 

Dated  June  1,  1920,  Pasadena,  California. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

PAGE 

The  Introduction  and  An  Account  of  The  First  Mission 
Foundation — San  Diego  de  Alcala 3 

CHAPTER  n 

The  Journey  From  San  Diego,  With  a  Fiesta  at  San  Luis 
Rey  and  The  Record  of  Her  Asistencia — Pala 14 

CHAPTER  HI 

The  Thirty-Five  Mile  Jaunt  From  San  Luis  Rey  and 
The  Story  of  The  Tragedy  at  San  Juan  Capistrano.       29 

CHAPTER  IV 

On  to  San  Gabriel  ;  Her  History,  Together  With  a  Legend 
OF  Her  Bells 38 

CHAPTER  V 

The  Roadway  to  San  Fernando,  With  a  Sketch  of  Her 

Rise  and  Fall  . . 49 

CHAPTER  VI 

To  San   Buenaventura  and  The  Strange  Tale  of  The 
Four  Cats 61 

CHAPTER  VII 

The  Highway  Called  RinconandThe  Beautiful  Gardens 

OF  Santa  Barbara 73 


CHAPTER  VIII 

PAGE 

Telling  of  The  Journey  to  Santa  Ines  and  What  One 

Finds  There 85 

CHAPTER  IX 

A  Detour  to  Purisima  and  The  Fable  of  The  Miraculous 

House 99 

CHAPTER  X 

Back  to  El  Camino  Real  and  What  San  Luis  Obispo  Has 
To  Tell  of  Her  Romantic  Past 110 

CHAPTER  XI 

About  The  One-Time  Dangerous  Roads  and  The  Myth 
of  San  Miguel 121 

CHAPTER  XII 

The  Country  Beyond  San  Miguel  and  The  Chronicle  of 
Old  Spanish  Life  in  America — San  Antonio  de  Padua     133 

CHAPTER  XIII 

More  Dangerous  Road  and  a  Suggestion  ofThe  Solitude 
OF  Soledad,  With  The  Fiction  of  The  Pearls  of  Loretto     143 

CHAPTER  XIV 

To  Monterey — In  Death,  As  In  Life,  The  Home  of  The 

Sainted  Father  Junipero  Serra 154 

CHAPTER  XV 

Another  Excursion  Off  The  Royal  Highway  Into  The 
Land  Where  Santa  Cruz  Once  Stood,  With  The  Fable 
OF  The  Mission  Bells 168 

CHAPTER  XVI 

Back  Again  to  The  Royal  Highway  and  The  Interesting 

Story  of  San  Juan  Bautista 177 


CHAPTER  XVII 

PAGE 

Along  The  Way  TO  San  Jose  and  The  Mission  Santa  Clara, 
Dedicated  to  The  Poor  Clares 192 

CHAPTER   XVIII 

A  Little  Journey  From  San  Jose  to  San  Jose,  With  a 
Recital  of  California's  Great  Romance 203 

CHAPTER  XIX 

The  Wonderful  Valley  of  Santa  Clara  and  Dolores, 
The  Mission  of  San  Francisco 212 

CHAPTER  XX 

Across  The  Waters  of  The  Bay  to  The  Hospital  Mission 
OF  San  Rafael 223 

CHAPTER  XXI 

Through  Orchards  andVineyardsto  Solano — The  Mission 
and  The  Home  of  The  Bear-Flag  Revolution 232 

L'Envoi 243 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  Interior  of  Pala  Mission  Chapel,  Painted  in  Crude 
Indian  Colors Frontispiece 

facing  page 

The  Mission  of  San  Diego  de  Alcala  As  It  Is  To-day.  . .  9 

San  Diego  Missions  and  Some  Nearby  Palms IS 

San  Luis  Rey  Ruins,  After  Secularization 24 

The  Chapel  of  San  Antonio  de  Pala 27 

Early  Mass  in  the  Chapel  of  San  Juan  Capistrano 30 

The  Confessional,  San  Juan  Capistrano 32 

The  Altar  of  the  Original  Church  of  San  Juan  Capis- 
trano    34 

The  Arches  of  San  Juan  Capistrano  Mission 36 

San  Gabriel  Mission,  Near  Los  Angeles 44 

The  Stairway  to  the  Choir,  San  Gabriel  Mission 46 

San  Fernando  Mission,  Showing  the  Giant  Palms 51 

The  Corridor  of  San  Fernando  Monastery 54 

The  Mission  of  San  Buenaventura 63 

A  Monk  Cultivating  Land  at  Santa  Barbara  Mission..  l^i 

The  Interior  of  the  Santa  Ines  Church 97 


facing  page 

The  Corridor,  La  Purisima  Mission 104 

San  Luis  Obispo  Mission 113 

Doorway,  Santa  Margarita  Chapel  at  San  Luis  Obispo  122 

San  Miguel  Mission 125 

The  Interior  of  San  Miguel  Mission 128 

The  Ruins  of  San  Antonio  de  Padua 140 

La  Soledad  Mission 146 

San  Carlos  Mission  at  Carmel,  Six  Miles  From  Monterey  159 

San  Carlos  Mission  In  Its  Glory 163 

Santa  Cruz  Mission  As  It  Was  Before  An  Earthquake  and 

Tidal  Wave  Wrecked  It  In  1840 170 

San  Juan  Bautista  Mission 181 

The  Interior  of  San  Juan  Bautista  Mission 183 

The  Present  Santa  Clara  Church 197 

A  Sister,  Convent  of  Dominicans,  San  Jose 208 

The  Mission  of  Dolores  To-day 215 

The  Main  Altar  of  Mission  Dolores,  San  Francisco...  217 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE 
GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 


I 


CALIFORNIAN   TRAILS,    INTIMATE 
GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

CHAPTER  I 

THE    INTRODUCTION     AND     AN     ACCOUNT     OF     THE     FIRST 
MISSION     FOUNDATION SAN     DIEGO     DE    ALCALA 

A  WORLD-FAMED  ctymologlst  says  that  far  back  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  when  on  pilgrimages  to  the  Holy  Land, 
the  French  Crusaders  were  continually  being  asked 
where  they  were  going.  Their  reply  was:  a  la  sainte 
terre.  This  colloquially  was  soon  abbreviated  into  Saint- 
terrers,  and  then,  in  the  course  of  time,  by  those  to  whom 
French  was  a  barbaric  tongue,  to  Saunterers.  And  it 
seems  as  though  this  term  of  Sauntering  was  peculiarly 
well  fitted  to  apply  to  a  summer  idling  along  the  trails 
the  heroic  and  self-sacrificing  Franciscans  blazed  In 
California  during  the  late  seventeen  hundreds,  even 
though  they  have  now  widened  into  well-paved  highways 
and  a  speedy  motor 'car  replaces  the  slow-plodding  burro 
of  the  earlier  time.  Always  provided,  have  It  understood, 
that  your  traveling  companions  be  Imagination,  Sym- 
pathy, and  Understanding,  lest  the  end  of  the  trail  be 

3 


4       CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

Disillusionment;  for  you  are  wandering  in  the  avenues  of 
the  past  through  an  often  discordantly  modern  setting 
and  a  present-day  critical  atmosphere  sadly  out  of  tune 
with  old  ways. 

Europe  and  Asia,  whose  abbeys  and  shrines  are  in  an 
almost  perfect  state  of  preservation,  with  a  beginning  , 
long  antedating  the  attempt  to  balance  the  legendary 
egg  before  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  look  with  scarcely 
concealed  amusement  at  America  when  antiquity-hunt- 
ing in  her  own  country;  but  if  Confucius  is  to  be  trusted, 
"To-day,  some  day  will  be  a  hundred  years  ago";  and, 
should  the  fight  to  preserve  the  monuments  of  Cali- 
fornia at  the  same  time  develop  a  love  of  country,  the 
old  missions  will  be  doing  a  service  comparable  with 
the  object  for  which  they  were  founded. 

For  two  decades  or  more  a  small  but  enthusiastic 
band  of  men  and  women,  united  by  their  reverence  for 
the  past,  have  been  struggling  to  prevent  complete 
obliteration  of  the  mission  ruins;  and,  in  so  far  as  prac- 
ticable, to  reconstruct  the  original  roads  connecting  them. 

As  a  direct  outcome  of  their  work,  the  destroying 
hand  of  Time  has  been  stayed  and,  here  and  there, 
restorations  begun;  while  every  mile  of  road  that  once 
joined  the  twenty-one  missions  has  been  surveyed  and  is 
now  marked  by  hundreds  of  emblematic  bell  posts, 
bearing  the  title  El  Camlno  Real — ^The  Royal  Road. 

But  this  is  the  sole  barrier  to  a  "contempt  with  which 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS       5 

history  will  one  day  surely  mark  the  present  generation 
for  permitting  an  almost  criminal  negligence." 

Our  plan  of  sauntering  is  to  follow  this  Royal  Road, 
as  much  with  the  eye  of  memory  and  imagination  as 
with  the  physical  eye,  for  whose  unaided  interest,  there 
is  often  left  pitifully  little  of  the  old  great  past  to  appeal. 
V/e  shall  follow  it,  as  it  leads,  almost  from  the  borders 
of  the  New  Spain  whence  it  came,  to  its  Northern  End 
above  San  Francisco,  contenting  ourselves  with  what  it 
brings,  of  storied  ruin,  or  preserved  relic,  of  memory  or 
imagination. 

Once  upon  a  time  any  person,  rich  or  poor,  could  travel 
it  without  expending  a  single  penny.  It  had  no  inns  nor 
hostelries.  Only  it  had  the  missions,  from  that  of  San 
Diego  in  the  South  to  far  distant  Sonoma.  Good  Padre 
Junipero  Serra  had  dreamed  them  and  before  his  death  in 
1784  the  dream  had  been  established  at  nine  different 
stations.  In  the  next  thirty  years,  but  for  San  Francisco 
Solano  of  1823,  it  was  to  grow  to  its  fullest  extent.  Below, 
follows  a  list  of  the  foundations: 

Mission  Founded 

San  Diego  de  Alcala 1769 

San  Carlos  Borromeo 1770 

San  Antonio  de  Padua 1771 

San  Gabriel  Arcangel 1771 

San  Luis  Obispo 1772 

San  Francisco  de  Asis 1776 

San  Juan  Capistrano 1776 


6       CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD~MISSIONS 

Santa  Clara 1777 

San  Buenaventura 1782 

Santa  Barbara 1786 

La  Purisima  Concepclon 1787 

San  Cruz 1791 

LaSoledad 1791 

San  Jose 1797 

San  Juan  Bautista  .      .     ,     , 1797 

San  Miguel 1797 

San  Fernando     ..,..     =      ..••  1797 

San  Luis  Rey     ..........  1798 

Santa  Ines ,      .      .      .      .  1804 

San  Rafael  Arcangel 1817 

San  Francisco  Solano 1823 

The  missions,  it  must  be  remembered,  purely  religious 
as  conceived  by  the  leader  of  the  movement,  had  also  a 
very  real  secular  value.  It  was  largely  on  this  account 
that  the  Spanish  government  encouraged  them.  They 
were  outer  defences  of  the  system  in  that  they  promoted 
docility  among  the  Indians;  and  also  they  were  the 
economic  life  of  the  country.  Their  period  was  the 
pastoral  period  of  Californian  history.  Many  square 
leagues  of  the  land  were  under  their  governance:  herds 
of  cattle  and  sheep,  harvests  of  grain,  and  also,  though 
to  no  such  great  extent,  wealth  of  oil  and  wine.  Their 
hides  and  tallow  were  the  mainstay  of  the  foreign  trade 
and  practically  supported  the  government. 

The  labor  on  these  great  estates  was  performed  by 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS       7 

Neophyte  Indians — won  to  this  service  by  the  persuasive- 
ness and  zeal  of  the  Padres  and  the  mysteries  of  the 
rehgion  which  they  practiced  and  taught  to  the  exclusion 
of  all  other  knowledge  but  that  of  the  various  manual 
activities  which  they  required  and  superintended. 

So  it  was,  no  matter  when  the  visitor  might  arrive, 
at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night,  Indian  servants  were 
always  at  command,  also  a  good  bed  to  sleep  upon  and  a 
splendid  table.  It  was  not  unusual  for  a  Spanish  host  to 
leave  a  small  heap  of  silver,  covered  with  linen  cloth,  from 
which  the  stranger  was  supposed  to  supply  his  wants. 
Horses  to  ride  were  ever  at  his  service.  It  was  customary 
as  the  first  occupation  of  the  morning  to  catch  a  horse 
from  the  most  convenient  field,  saddle  and  bridle  it 
ready  for  instant  use  and  when  the  traveler  tired  one 
horse  he  might  take  another,  leaving  the  first  in  the  road — 
anywhere.  If  nightfall  caught  him  far  from  shelter  it 
was  the  agreeable  custom  of  the  day  that  he  might 
slaughter  an  animal  from  the  nearest  herd  and  it  was 
quite  understood  that  he  had  entirely  met  the  exigencies 
of  the  case  If  he  courteously  hung  the  hide  where  the 
owner  of  the  beast  could  find  it. 

What  charming  medieval  hospitality! 

SAN    DIEGO    DE    ALCALA 

On  July  16th  in  the  year  1769,   though  nearing  the 
breakfast  hour,  not  a  sign  of  smoke  was  traceable  at  one 


8  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 
of  the  many  wigwams  in  the  Indian  village  of  Cosoy. 
The  entire  population  was  out  of  doors,  clustered  about 
the  hill  which  centered  in  the  town.  The  "ugly  blue- 
eyed,  nasty  white-colored  devils"  who  had  come  from  the 
unknown  some  ninety  suns  ago  were  brewing  more  witch 
medicine,  and  must  be  watched.  But  as  the  "Diggers" 
really  cared  for  nothing  save  how  to  fill  their  stomachs, 
even  the  tense  excitement  which  had  pulled  them  out  of 
doors  did  not  prevent  many  of  the  family  groups  from 
browning  over  red-hot  stones  their  every-day  ration  of 
wild  locusts. 

The  more  provident,  with  meat  in  their  larder,  were 
busy  cutting  It  into  strips  and  then  tying  it  to  long  cords 
which  permitted  them,  after  swallowing  and  retaining  it 
for  a  few  moments,  to  pull  out  the  partly  digested  mass 
and  pass  it  along  to  the  next  expectant  members  of  the 
family  who  would  keep  on  repeating  this  operation  until 
the  delectable  morsel  was  "no  more." 

The  men  were  entirely  naked,  unless  glistening  daubs 
of  paint  and  dangling  snail  shells  from  ears  and  nose  can 
be  considered  clothing.  The  women  wore  two  fibre- 
aprons,  suspended  from  a  girdle  around  the  waist,  one  at 
the  back,  one  at  the  front,  leaving  an  opening  at  either 
side,  presumably  the  forerunner  of  the  one-time  modish 
slit  skirt.  Both  sexes  wore  long  locks  smeared  with 
grease  and  altogether  it  was  a  lazy,  filthy  people  "more 


IHK  MISSION  ()!•   SAN   Dll(,()  UK  AI.CAI.A  As  II    Is    Ii)-1JAY 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS       9 

beastly  than  the  beasts,"     who  crouched,  in  expectant 
waiting  at  the  base  of  the  hill. 

On  the  heights,  except  for  the  guards,  was  gathered  the 
entire  white  colony,  putting  the  final  touches  to  rude 
earthern  works  surrounding  a  brushwood  structure,  a 
nearby  cross  and  several  hanging  bells.  Priests,  with 
shaven  crowns,  wearing  a  loose  brown  robe,  tied  at  the 
waist  by  a  long  tasseled  girdle;  soldiers  In  leather  jackets 
made  from  tanned  deer  skin;  sailors  In  ship  clothes; 
caballeros  in  gay  attire — one  and  all  were  busy.  But 
suddenly  work  ceased.  Their  task  was  finished.  Amid 
an  almost  breathless  silence  Father  Junipero  Serra  blessed 
the  brushwood  chapel,  the  site  upon  which  it  stood,  and 
the  cross  that  reared  before  it.  And  then,  with  all  the 
pomp  and  ceremony  that  the  circumstances  permitted. 
High  Mass  was  sung.  With  a  salvo  of  musketry  the 
royal  standard  of  Spain  was  flung  to  the  breeze;  while 
bells  rang  out  their  solemn  notes,  and  incense  floated  over 
the  little  altar — Incense,  v/hich  slowly  wafting  its  way 
seaward,  seemed  striving  to  carry  the  good  tidings  across 
the  great  waters. 

And  so  was  born  the  first  Callfornian  Mission — San 
Diego  de  Alcala — prophetically  named  by  Viscaino,  a 
hundred  and  sixty-seven  years  before. 

More   pretentious   buildings   soon   came   into  being; 


10     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

the  wooden  stockade  gave  way  to  a  high  wall  of  brick,  and, 
for  sixty  years  or  so,  within  the  quadrangle  of  the  Presidio 
lived  and  died  the  first  Spanish  colony  of  upper  Cali- 
fornia. But,  though  the  soldier  and  the  priest  worked 
side  by  side,  Spain  was  always  influenced  primarily  by 
lust  of  Empire  rather  than  by  religious  zeal,  and  the  sword 
in  point  of  authority  was  ever  above  the  cross.  It  was 
the  old  and  the  always  nev/  conflict  between  Church  and 
State;  of  petty  interference  by  secular  authorities  in 
matters  strictly  religious.  Even  the  saintly  Father  Serra 
was  called  "a  troublesome  meddler"  for  daring  to  fight 
against  a  "civilization  that  arrived  on  a  powder  wagon." 
In  1774  came  the  inevitable  split;  and  the  missionaries, 
with  their  little'company  of  Indian  converts,  sought  new 
fields. 

A  few  miles  up  the  river  an  ideal  site  was  located  and, 
before  many  months  had  passed,  they  were  housed  under 
better  conditions  than  at  Cosoy.  For  more  than  a  year 
the  work  proceeded  prosperously,  with  growing  herds, 
increasing  crops,  and  the  far  more  important  spiritual 
crop  of  several  hundred  converts.  Then,  without  reason, 
unless  the  Medicine  Men  who  had  always  wielded  an 
enormous  power,  found  it  waning  and  incited  their  fol- 
lowers to  conspire  against  the  lives  of  the  opposing 
Priests,  eight  hundred  pagans,  under  cover  of  the  mid- 
night darkness,  stole  down  upon  the  eight  white  men 
of    the    mission.      Tlic    buildings    were    put    to    flame 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS     1 1 

Father  Jaume,  a  valiant  figure  of  a  man,  unarmed  and 
alone,  came  out  into  the  glare  of  the  firelight  and,  as 
simply  as  if  in  the  quiet  of  his  little  chapel,  greeted  the 
savage,  howling  mob  with  his  usual  salutation:  Amad  a 
Dios  hijos — (Love  God,  my  children).  But  his  courage 
and  faith  then  availed  nothing.  He  was  seized  and 
tortured  to  death  in  a  frightful  manner.  His  spirit, 
however,  lives,  and  many  bear  witness  that  to  this  very 
day  a  white-robed  figure,  with  lighted  candle  and  cross, 
can  be  seen  moving  about  the  ruins. 

The  neophytes,  in  time,  rallied  about  their  spiritual 
Fathers,  and  the  mission,  as  we  know  it  from  drawings 
still  extant,  was  then  begun,  though  not  fully  completed 
until  1813.  They  quarried  all  the.  stone,  made  the  needed 
thousands  of  adobe  bricks,  and  felled  the  timber  which 
oftentimes  grew  as  many  as  sixty  miles  away.  Toilsome 
work,  but  lightened  Into  a  fiesta  by  the  understanding 
priests  who,  relaying  the  Indians  in  groups  a  mile  apart, 
sprinkled  with  holy  water  the  prepared  timber,  and,  to  a 
song  accompaniment,  hoisted  these  rafters  to  the  shoulders 
of  the  first  in  line,  who  transferred  them  to  the  second 
group,  and  so,  without  once  touching  unhallowed  ground, 
they  were  carried  all  the  sixty  miles  to  the  church. 

The  day  came  when  something  like  forty  square 
miles  were  under  the  guidance  of  this  one  mission.  A 
single  crop  of  wheat,  barley  and  corn  amounted  to 
21,000  bushels.     In  cattle,  horses  and  sheep  they  tallied 


12     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

26,000  head.  And  at  nightfall,  when  the  Angelus  rang, 
hundreds  of  the  self-same  savages,  upon  whom,  at  the 
memorable  founding  In  1769  Father  Serra  had  gazed  In 
loving  anticipation,  were  assembled,  now  gentle,  clean 
and  clothed,  in  prayer. 

Secularization — ^Mexico's  desire  to  pay  her  debts 
with  other  people's  property — a  virtual  confiscation, 
sounded  the  death  knell  to  this  dream  of  patriarchical 
government. 

To-day  Cosoy,  San  Diego  Old  Town,  is  virtually  a 
ruin  to  which  "picturesque"  could  not,  with  honesty,  be 
applied.  The  average  tourist  Is  drawn  to  it,  not  because 
of  Its  mission  memories,  but  for  the  reason  that  fiction 
has  woven  Old  Town  into  the  romance  of  Ramona.  To 
be  sure,  fiction  has  been  capitalized,  and  a  very  creditable 
and  costly  restoration  of  the  storied  marriage  place  has 
been  made;  while  truth,  so  much  stranger  than  any 
fiction — a  truth  that  should  be  the  treasured  glory  of  the 
city  and  the  state — must  satisfy  itself  with  a  memorial 
cross  built  largely  of  tile,  dug  up  from  the  surrounding 
fields.  Presidio  Hill,  the  birthplace  of  all  the  missions, 
is  only  a  weed-covered  mound;  while  the  mission  build- 
ings, six  miles  away,  are  wrecked  beyond  even  a  semblance 
<A  their  former  glory.  To  the  thieving  "hack  driver"  of 
present  San  Diego,  they  represent  only  another  source  of 
graft  about  which  tales  can  be  woven  for  the  credulous 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS     13 

tourist,  to  whom  they  sell  chppings  of  a  near-by  bush, 
grown,  they  say,  from  the  original  crown  of  thorns.  Or 
else,  with  bated  breath,  they  point  to  two  poor,  mutilated, 
sacred  paintings,  and  tell  how  the  arrows,  fired  during  the 
great  insurrection,  once  piercing  them,  fell  harmless  to 
the  ground. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    JOURNEY   FROM    SAN   DIEGO,    WITH   A   FIESTA   AT   SAN 
LUIS  REY  AND  THE  RECORD  OF  HER  ASISTENCIA PALA 

San  Diego's  real  estate  operators  (and  there  are  so 
many,  it  is  said  they  are  forced  to  wear  secret  emblems  to 
keep  from  bothering  one  another)  having  had  visions  of 
a  world  center,  grabbed  seventy-eight  square  miles  of 
land,  all  of  which  was  incorporated  within  the  city  limits. 
This  gluttony  brought  on  acute  financial  indigestion,  and, 
for  years,  the  highways  were,  in  consequence,  little  better 
than  by-ways. 

There  are,  to  be  sure,  well  asphalted  streets  from  the 
Plaza  center  of  San  Diego  through  Murphy  Canyon  to 
the  bridge,  the  farther  end  of  which  marks  the  entrance 
to  the  mission  grounds,  but  the  right-angle  turn  to  the 
left  is  only  a  country  road.  This  is  the  one  that  was 
always  traveled  by  the  sandal-shod  Fathers  in  their 
walks  between  Mission  and  Presidio.  It  runs  beside  the 
San  Diego  River  through  Mission  Valley  to  Old  Town 
where  are  found  the  two  giant  palms,  mothers  of  all  the 
palms  in  California,  which  were  planted  by  the  Padres 
in   1769 — until  recently  so  highly  reverenced  as  to  be 

14 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS     15 

used  for  hitching  posts  and  as  the  most  prominent  place 
upon  which  egotistical  tourists  from  Fool-town  could 
carve  their  names. 

Perhaps  another  four  miles  and  the  road  branches 
sharply  oceanward,  following  the  sea  to  La  Jolla.  This 
artistic  little  settlement,  the  home  of  a  considerable 
colony  of  painters  presumably  derived  its  name  ('*  cave- 
hole")  from  the  sea-cut  caverns  in  the  promontory  upon 
which  it  rests.  Leaving  it,  the  road  rounds  a  hill  nearby, 
which  gives  wonderful  backward  views  of  the  bay  and 
the  rambling  one-storied  houses,  conforming  to  every 
irregularity  of  the  rocks;  and  mounts  the  grade  of  the 
"Torrey"  pines.  They  are  scientifically  famous  as  being 
the  only  example  in  the  world  of  their  species,  which 
bears  a  cluster  of  five  needles,  instead  of  the  customary 
three;  and  are  artistically  famous  as  well,  judging  from 
the  numbers  of  pictures  that  have  been  painted  of  them. 

Now  comes  Del  Mar  (of  the  sea),  and  from  her 
cheery  Elizabethan  inn,  you  have  an  "eye  encompassed" 
sweep  of  more  than  forty  miles.  Go  there,  as  did  the 
writer,  just  as  the  sun  was  drowsily  preparing  for  bed; 
when  with  dreamy  brush,  he  paints  in  magic  colors  the 
curtain  of  the  sky,  behind  which  he  is  to  sink  asleep;  then 
when  darkness  falls  about  you,  watch  the  eyes  of  heaven 
open,  one  by  one — and  the  spell  of  California  will  be 
upon  you. 

On  leaving  Del  Mar,  one  hears  the  sea  "crooning  in 


16     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

long  rolling  breakers  against  gleaming  shore-lines"  and 
for  many  a  mile  you  cling  to  the  ocean — passing  Cardiff, 
the  dream  city  of  an  enthusiastic  Englishman,  where 
streets,  cutting  through  as  yet  vacant  lots  exhibit  all  the 
hauteur  lent  by  such  aristocratic  names  as  Oxford,  Cam- 
bridge, Westminster,  Dublin  and  Kilkenny;  by  Enclnlas, 
little  oaks  it  means,  though  the  trees  are  mostly  eucalyp- 
tus, deadening  the  air  with  sickly  odor;  through  Carlsbad 
(so  called  upon  the  maps,  but  since  the  war  the  "bad" 
has  been  taken  out  and  thus  Germany  loses  one  more 
disciple).  Then  comes  the  city  of  Ocean  Side,  forty-three 
miles  from  San  Diego,  living  up  to  Its  name  by  being 
placed  considerably  further  from  the  ocean  than  most  of 
the  towns  already  passed.  But  what  interests  the 
Saunterers  most  particularly  Is  the  mission  bell  post 
pointing  Inland,  with  the  Inscription:  San  Luis  Rey  4.7 
miles.  Another  unimproved  country  road,  but  the  true 
Camino  Real. 

All  In  the  golden  weather 
Forth  let  us  ride  to-day, 

You  and  I  together 

On  the  King's  Highway. 

The  blue  skies  above  us, 
And  below  the  shining  sea; 

There's  many  a  road  to  travel, 
But  'tis  this  road  for  me. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS     17 

It's  a  long  road  and  sunny, 

It's  a  long  road  and  old, 
And  the  brown  padres  made  it 

For  the  flocks  of  the  fold ; 
They  made  it  for  the  sandals 

Of  the  sinner  folk  that  trod 
From  the  fields  in  the  open 

To  the  shelter  house  of  God. 

— From  The  King's  Highway  {El  Camino 
Real)  by  John  S.  McGroarty. 

SAN    LUIS,    REY    DE    FRANCIA 

The  twenty-fifth  of  August,  1802,  dawns  at  last;  the 
day  long  awaited  and  for  which  all  preparations  have 
long  since  been  made.  Not  alone  is  it  the  feast  day  of 
the  Patron  Saint,  San  Luis — Louis  the  Ninth,  King  of 
France,  canonized  in  1297  for  his  piety  during  the  Cru- 
sades, but  it  celebrates  the  completion  of  the  church, 
dedicated  to  San  Luis  when  it  was  founded  four  years 
before. 

Small  wonder  that  to-day  the  pleasure  loving  Indians 
have  to  be  rounded  up  by  the  Alcades  and  forced  under 
whip  lash  into  the  very  doors  of  the  sanctuary.  How  the 
Alcades  love  to  flourish  their  badge  of  authority — a 
scourge  of  raw-hide  ten  feet  long,  plaited  to  the  thickness  - 
of  one's  wrist!     And  little  do  the  Alcades  realize  that 


18     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

theirs  is  the  reward  of  laziness,  for  the  knowing  Padres 
finding  it  impossible  to  make  them  work  in  the  fields, 
cloak  them  with  brief  power  that  forces  them  to  work 
even  harder  and  longer,  persuading  their  fellows. 

It  is  a  restless  crowd  that  finally  gathers  indoors  this 
beautiful  August  morning.  Outdoors  is  calling.  Will 
the  prayers  never  cease?  Does  the  white  man's  God 
forget  that  this  is  a  holiday.? 

Mass  finally  over,  there  is  a  pell-mell  rush  to  the 
corral,  which  here  is  enclosed  by  a  fence  of  oxen  skulls 
with  horns  still  outstanding.  Forty  of  the  younger 
men  at  once  shed  the  white  man's  useless  garb  and, 
naked,  except  for  breech  cloth,  with  lasso  in  hand,  step 
within  the  enclosure.  At  top  speed  they  run  round  and 
round  the  cattle,  yelling  with  all  the  power  of  their 
lungs  to  further  excite  the  animals.  In  a  moment  there 
is  one  whirling  mass,  always  twisting  and  turning  in  a 
circle;  a  constantly  changing  outer  ring — those  on  the 
inside  making  every  effort  to  escape  without,  those  on  the 
outside  striving  to  reach  safety  within.  This  gives  the 
encircling  Indians  a  chance  to  select  with  the  least  danger, 
and  there  is  danger  for  it  is  of  frequent  occurrence  to  be 
gored — sometimes  to  death — even  when  entering  the 
corral  to  lasso  for  daily  food. 

Soon  the  cattle  are  separated  into  three  groups:  de 
rodea — for  branding  or  slaughter;  de  enjrante — for  fight- 
ing, and  de  ordena — cows  for  milking. 

The  fighting  bulls  are  first  coaxed  into  specially  pre- 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS     19 

pared  quarters  to  be  groomed  for  the  afternoon's  sport. 
The  ones  selected  for  branding  are  forced  singly  through 
a  gate  into  adjoining  corrals,  and  a  sizzling  iron,  in  the 
shape  of  a  church  with  cross  on  top,  is  clapped  to  their 
hind  quarters.  Those  wanted  for  food  are  again  lassoed 
and  thrown,  their  throats  cut,  the  hide  stripped  off  and 
pegged  to  the  ground;  whilst  the  carcasses,  once  cleaned, 
are  taken  to  the  bake-ovens,  which  are  large  enough  to 
roast  the  animals  entire.  The  cows  for  milking  are 
merely  driven  into  one  of  the  adjacent  smaller  enclosures, 
where  the  Indian  women^'awalt  them — three  for  each  cow. 
One  holds  her  by  the  head,  a  second  hangs  on  to  the  hind 
legs,  while  a  third  does  the  milking.  The  work  thus 
divided  gives  every  opportunity  for  the  exchange  of 
gossip  and  scandal,  so  dear  to  their  feminine  hearts. 

Some  of  the  watching  groups  soon  tire  and  wander 
off  to  indulge  their  passion  for  dancing.  Here,  again,  the 
Padres  show  their  wisdom  in  permitting  the  Indians  to 
Indulge  In  all  the  pastimes  of  their  savage  state,  pro- 
vided decency  is  not  offended.  While  the  first  lesson  In 
civilization  was  not  to  go  about  entirely  naked,  but  for 
men  to  wear  a  linen  shirt  and  trousers  and  women  a 
chemise  and  skirt;  in  native  dancing,  the  men  immediately 
discard  these  "worthless"  articles  and  dress  their  heads 
with  feathers  and  their  faces  and  bodies  with  glaring 
mineral  colors  traced  in  grotesque  patterns.  The  women's 
woven  skirts  are  replaced  by  those  made  from  tails  of 


20  CALIFORNIAX  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 
squirrels  and  rabbits,  trimmed  with  bird  feathers;  their 
arms  are  covered  with  shell  bracelets  and  their  necks 
hung  with  beads.  Bones  tied  with  string  serve  as  casta- 
nets, while  split  reeds,  the  beating  of  skin  drums,  the 
clapping  of  hands,  the  rattling  of  tortoise  shells  filled  with 
pebbles,  make  a  merry  discord  by  which  is  timed  the 
singing  and  dancing.  A  monotonous  droning  in  a  minor 
key  ever  accompanies  the  dance  and  to  the  guttural 
i-ah-we-lay,  i-ah-we-hay-lah,  ha-low-hal-wah-ah-kay,  first 
one  foot  and  then  the  other  is  slowly  lifted  in  a  horizontal 
movement  from  right  to  left;  suddenly  the  arms  shoot 
outward  and  the  dancers  leap  from  the 'ground  and  whirl 
in  dervish  ecstasy,  only  as  suddenly  to  fall  back  into 
rhythmical  step  with  a  rapid  swaying  of  the  upper  body. 

Afternoon  finds  everyone  crowding  into  the  inner 
quadrangle  of  the  mission,  seeking  safe  places  behind  the 
temporary  barricades  which  line  all  four  sides.  Every 
available  inch  of  space  is  soon  jammed  to  suffocation  by 
stolid-faced  Indian  men  and  women.  It  is  a  moment 
of  intense  excitement,  yet  there  they  sit,  outwardly 
impassive,  with  eyes  fixed  on  the  door  through  which  the 
bull  will  enter.  There  is  profound  silence,  except  for  the 
bellowing  of  the  beast  as  he  slowly  approaches  from  his 
darkened  enclosure.  The  door  suddenly  swings  aside 
and,  with  a  furious  snort,  in  he  dashes.  Blinded  by  the 
sudden  glare,  he  rushes  to  the  barricade  and  butts  his 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    21 

horns  in  the  yielding  boards;  but  a  more  worthy  foe 
awaits  him — a  mountain  Hon,  captured  for  this  very 
purpose  by  Indian  hunters,  Is  now  Inside  the  ring.  A 
low  snarl,  an  angry  roar,  and  the  lion  leaps  upon  the 
bull's  flank  burying  his  teeth  In  the  quivering  flesh.  The 
bull  paws  the  ground  In  helpless  rage,  rushes  wildly  around 
and  around,  and,  with  blood  streaming  down  his  sides, 
dashes  against  the  wooden  enclosure.  Writhing  and 
twisting  In  a  thousand  ways,  he  tries  to  escape  this  new 
torture,  but  In  vain  until,  with  a  last  violent  effort,  he  Is 
free.  But  the  Hon  is  no  sooner  flung  to  the  ground, 
than  he  jumps  at  the  throat.  The  bull,  by  this  time,  with 
blood-shot  eyes  and  foaming  mouth,  maddened  by  the 
pain,  thirsts  to  retaliate.  Lowering  his  head,  he  meets 
his  foe  In  mid-alr.  The  terrible  horns  pierce  the  lion's 
belly  and  carry  him  uplifted,  across  the  ring,  where  he  Is 
finally  thrown  to  the  ground  like  a  bundle  of  rags — dead. 

The  second  act  takes  place  as  soon  as  another  bull 
appears  on  the  scene,  this  time  with  horns  well  swathed 
and  blunted. 

At  once  a  number  of  men  and  the  more  adventurous 
of  the  boys,  hop  the  barrier  and  with  coats,  shawls,  or 
strips  of  cloth  start  in  to  bait  him — teasing  and  badgering 
him  in  every  way  possible.  They  twist  his  tail,  jump  on 
his  back — some  are  agile  enough  to  cling  there  in  spite  of 
his  wild  bucking  about  the  arena.  The  nimblest  among 
them  plant  poles  in  the  ground  and,  as  the  bull  runs 


22     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

toward  them,  take  flying  leaps  which  land  them  on  the 
far  side.  Those  more  cruelly  inclined  stick  him  with 
banderillas  de  fuogo  (firecracker  darts  that  go  off  the 
moment  the  point  penetrates  the  flesh)  until,  maddened 
by  pain  and  blinded  by  rage,  the  bull  goes  running  amuck, 
knocking  down  first  one  and  then  another,  or  with 
lowered  horns  tosses  a  too  daring  lad.  Again  and  again 
the  bull  and  his  tormentors  disappear  in  a  cloud  of  dust; 
but  scraped  faces  or  bruised  limbs  for  the  amateur 
matador  and  a  weary,  very  disgusted  bull  is  the  ordinary 
ending. 

Evening  comes  all  too  quickly,  but  with  the  first  dark- 
ness, dozens  of  fires  brighten  the  night.  Around  each  fire 
squat  eight  peon  gamblers,  four  to  a  side.  One  group  hold  In 
their  hands  two  bones,  a  black  and  a  white  one,  tied 
together  by  a  cord  some  dozen  Inches  long.  A  blanket 
lies  spread  on  the  ground  in  front  of  each  four  players. 
Back  of  the  gamblers  are  circled  the  women,  just  out  of 
the  line  of  light,  who,  as  the  players  holding  the  peon 
bone  bend  forward  to  grasp  the  blanket  with  their  teeth, 
break  forth  In  wild  incantations.  With  hands  fumbling 
beneath  the  blanket,  the  players  suddenly  rise  to  their 
knees,  drop  the  blanket  from  their  teeth,  and  sway  from 
side  to  side  in  time  with  the  chant.  The  opposing  four 
are  supposed  to  guess  who  has  the  black  bone;  if  suc- 
cessful, they  get  the  peon,  if  unsuccessful  one  counter  is 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    23 

placed  in  front  of  the  winning  side.    There  are  fourteen 
counters  and  all  must  be  won  to  win  the  game.    Daylight 
finds  many  still  playing. 
But  the  fiesta  is  over. 

While  San  Luis  Rey  is  the  second  "pearl"  of  the 
mission  rosary  it  Is  the  eighteenth  In  point  of  foundation 
and,  with  past  experience  to  draw  upon,  was  brought  to 
life  under  far  better  auspices  than  any  of  the  earlier 
missions,  consequently  it  was  exceedingly  prosperous 
from  the  very  start.  At  the  height  of  its  prosperity, 
about  1826,  it  is  described  by  a  traveler  who  visited  it. 
"Turning  inland  from  the  sea  [Oceanside  where  the  sign 
post  gives  the  distance  of  4.7  miles]  and  after  a  hard 
canter  of  an  hour  and  a  half,  I  saw,  on  a  piece  of  rising 
ground,  the  superb  buildings  of  San  Luis  Rey,  whose 
glittering  whiteness  flashed  back  the  rays  of  the  setting 
sun.  At  this  distance  it  had  all  the  appearance  of  some 
fairy  palace  forming  a  square  five  hundred  feet  on  each 
side;  the  main  facade  was  a  long  peristyle  borne  on 
thirty-two  square  pillars.  Within  was  a  court,  around 
which  ran  the  cloister;  In  the  center  was  a  fountain 
playing  day  and  night.  Inside  the  walls  dwelt  nearly 
three  thousand  neophytes,  to  say  nothing  of  the  other 
thousands  who,  directly  or  indirectly,  were  being 
influenced  for  better." 

The  original  beauty  of  Its  many  buildings  and  its 


24    CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

great  prosperity  were  directly  traceable  to  the  zeal  and 
devotion  of  Father  Peyri  and  no  other  missionary  left 
behind  him  a  finer  record  than  did  this  padre — a  thorough- 
going man  and  at  the  same  time  almost  a  saint,  with  so 
strong  a  personality  as  to  make  a  lasting  impression 
upon  even  these  phlegmatic  Indians  who,  for  many 
years  after  his  departure,  placed  candles  and  flowers  in 
front  of  his  picture  to  which  they  offered  up  prayers. 
They  preferred  praying  to  a  saint  of  proven  goodness, 
rather  than  to  one  of  storied  virtue. 

Then  came  secularization  and,  if  the  writers  of  that 
time  are  to  be  beheved,  of  all  the  vast  herd  only  one 
hundred  and  ninety  cattle  remained  and  but  thirty- 
five  of  those  one-time  happy,  prosperous  Indians.  The 
buildings  were  pillaged  for  the  tiles  and  rafters;  the 
very  arches  were  blown  to  bits  for  the  sake  of  a  few  bricks, 
and  then  to  overflow  the  brimming  cup  of  blasphemy, 
ranch  houses  were  built  from  this  wreckage,  built  within 
the  very  site  of  the  denuded  mission. 

San  Luis,  while  passing  through  the  same  unfortunate 
phases  as  did  all  the  other  missions,  had  the  good  fortune 
in  1892  to  be  selected  as  the  seat  of  a  college  for  training 
Franciscans.  With  such  meager  means  as  the  church 
could  spare,  restoration  then  began,  and  thanks  to  the 
original  materials  on  the  ground,  the  work  progressed 
sufficiently  for  the  Church  to  be  rc-dedicated  in  1893. 

In  the  scats  of  honor  sat  three  old  Indian  women  who 
had  been  present  at  the  original  dedication  in  1802. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    25 

El  Camino  Real  de  Pala  is  a  good  dirt  road  and  as  far 
as  Bonsall,  eight  miles  away,  runs  over  fertile  rolling 
plains,  now  yellowed  with  ripening  grain.  The  succeed- 
ing twelve  miles  to  Pala,  however,  wind  through  a  rocky 
valley  following  the  bank  of  what  must  have  been  an 
amazingly  uneasy  consclenced  river  for  It  seems  to  be 
forever  turning  and  twisting  In  its  bed.  A  rocky  bed  at 
that;  and  a  rocky  country,  with  boulders  overhanging 
the  ver}^  road  as  though  ready  to  drop.  Hot,  too,  some- 
thing like  100  in  the  shade — "and  no  shade."  Seemingly, 
nothing  could  grow  here  except  "Burbank's  folly" — 
a  spineless  cactus  which  covers  the  fields  on  both  sides. 

But  again  the  end  justifies  the  means,  and  the  end  of 
our  road  discloses  a  beautiful,  pure  white  Campanile, 
locally  as  famous  as  Is  St.  Mark's  or  Pisa  In  its  native 
land — the  Campanile  of  San  Antonio  de  Pala. 

Agua  Callente,  for  centuries  the  home  of  the  Pala- 
tlnguas  (Hot-water  Indians),  was  coveted  by  the  white 
man  when  once  he  learned  the  medicinal  value  of  the 
warm  springs  to  which,  from  time  Immemorial,  the 
Indians  had  resorted  in  case  of  sickness.  They  had  found 
these  healing  waters  even  more  efficacious  than  their 
Temescals — something  akin  to  Roman  baths. 

But  why  should  the  white  man  pay  the  "dog  of  an 
Indian"  each  time  he  wants  to  drink  of  these  spring 
waters  or  bathe  In  them.f*  What  cared  he  that  there  the 
Indians  were  born,  married  and  had  burled  their  dead.f* 


26     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

Spanish  law  and  Mexican  law,  to  be  sure,  recognize  their 
rights;  as  for  that,  so  does  American  law.  But  American 
law  Is  made  to  say  that  the  Indians  must  confirm  these 
rights  by  making  application  before  accredited  agents  and 
no  one  ever  thought  of  explaining  this  to  the  Indians. 
Seeing  that  the  Indian,  If  he  reads  at  all,  reads  only 
Spanish,  what  skilfully  stacked  cards  for  the  thieving 
white  man !  Finally  comes  the  day  when  the  unsuspecting 
natives  are  legally — God  save  the  mark! — ordered  from 
their  life-long  homes.  Some  meet  this  order  fatalistically; 
some  In  ugly  fighting  mood;  some  In  despair,  but  all 
refuse  to  lift  a  hand  in  the  moving  and  Instinctively  turn 
to  the  graves  of  their  ancestors  for  consolation.  Weeping 
and  walling,  they  throw  themselves  before  the  rude,  un- 
palnted  crosses  which  mark  the  last  resting  place  of  those 
held  so  dear.  From  cemetery  they  go  to  chapel  where 
they  prostrate  themselves  In  front  of  the  white  man's 
God.  Is  he  displeased,  or,  when  he  says,  "Come  unto 
me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,"  is  he  thinking 
only  of  white  faces  .f*  In  order  to  enforce  this  order  of 
eviction  armed  guards  are  obliged  to  enter  every  adobe 
and  personally  strip  it  of  clothing,  food  and  furniture, 
which  is  later  piled  on  the  ground  outside.  The  people 
by  this  time  are  running  wildly  hither  and  thither, 
watching  with  tear-stained  faces  the  wreckage  of  their 
homes.  Helter  skelter,  everything  Is  dumped  Into  waiting 
carts — furniture,  baskets,  babies,  hen-coops,  and  food — 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS     27 

all  jumbled  together.  Behind,  trails  a  long  grief-laden 
procession,  which,  for  three  days  and  nights,  toils  over  the 
dusty  mesa,  and  worn  and  exhausted,  reaches  Pala, 
where  the  long  unused  mission  church  is  waiting,  with 
open  doors,  to  comfort  them.  But  it  is  many,  many  a 
moon  before  these  once  devout  Indians  can  be  Induced  to 
enter  and  pay  devotion  to  a  God  who  apparently  has 
deserted  them. 

It  was  in  1816  that  the  good  Father  Peyri,  having  been 
refused  authority  to  increase  the  size  of  San  Luis,  was  able 
to  dedicate  to  San  Antonio  de  Padua  the  simple  buildings 
now  known  as  Pala  to  be  an  asistencia  or  branch  to  the 
parent  church.  In  no  time  at  all  there  gathered  around 
him  a  thousand  or  more  devout  and  hard  working 
natives,  but  after  a  few  years  of  peaceful,  contented  life, 
the  scourge  of  secularization  overtook  them  too  and 
stripped  them  of  all  material  wealth.  Church  and  cloister 
were  left  as  playthings  for  wind  and  weather.  The  acres 
tilled  by  once  industrious  Indians  reverted  to  the  Mexican 
government,  and  by  it  were  granted  to  the  first  land- 
hungry  Yankee,  to  be  transferred  by  him  to  the  United 
States,  when  time  shamed  that  government  into  provid- 
ing a  home  for  the  defrauded  Palatinguas. 

The  half  ruined  chapel  was  rebuilt  by  the  help  of 
public  gifts;  and  it  is  pleasant  to  note  that  those  few 
mission  Indians  who  still  lingered  thereabout,  not  to  be 


28  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 
outdone  by  richer  neighbors,  gave  freely  of  all  they  had 
to  give — their  time — for  the  rebuilding. 

Once  more  peace  and  contentment  reign. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    THIRTY-FIVE-MILE    JAUNT    FROM    SAN    LUIS    REY    AND 
THE  STORY  OF  THE  TRAGEDY  AT  SAN  JUAN  CAPISTRANO 

The  road  still  clings  to  ocean's  side,  oftentimes  in 
such  close  embrace  that  the  spray  from  rolling  breakers 
enfolds  the  "saunterers."  Finally  it  pushes  away  and 
wanders  towards  the  valley  which  widens  into  a  great 
orchard  plain,  where  orange  trees  sweeten  the  air,  and 
peach  and  almond  blossoms  color  the  landscape.  But 
ocean's  magnetic  call  proves  too  strong  and  the  phil- 
andering road,  again  enticed,  hastens  back  and  then,  as 
if  ashamed  of  giving  way  to  the  weakness,  hides  behind 
a  bluff,  high  and  scarred  and  browned  by  the  scorching 
sun  to  a  hundred  rich  and  varying  shades. 

The  first  town  passed  is  Las  Flores,  which,  as  the 
name  implies,  is  the  center  of  great  flower  ranches, 
where  carnations  carpet  the  fields.  Then  comes  San 
Onofre,  notable  only  as  the  border  town  of  San  Diego 
County,  the  most  distant  out-post  of  San  Diego's  grab- 
bing land-sharks.     Finally,  the  traveller  reaches  Serra, 

29 


30     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

near  which  is  the  setting  of  one  of  Dana's  famous  ex- 
ploits, so  realistically  told  in  "Two  Years  Before  the 
Mast."  To-day,  all  that  marks  that  once  busy  beach 
is  a  tumble-down  shed  on  the  top  of  the  sheer  thousand- 
foot-high  cliff.  At  the  base  of  this  are  still  the  pro- 
truding rocks  on  which  the  cattle  hides,  thrown  from 
above,  used  to  catch  and  pile.  Now,  they  are  white 
with  the  bird-lime  of  countless  roosting  sea-gulls — other- 
wise not  a  sign  of  life. 

Three  miles  sharp  inland  and  one  reaches  the  sleepy 
little  town  of  Capistrano,  thirty-five  miles  from  San 
Luis  Rey. 

SAN    JUAN    CAPISTRANO 

It  is  an  oppressively  heavy,  murky  morning,  the  air 
so  surcharged  with  electricity  that  the  dullest  of  nerves 
feels  an  answering  tingle;  while,  over  the  sensitively 
responsive  creeps  an  apprehension  of  impending  evil, 
so  real  that  not  even  the  music  of  the  saintly  bells,  now 
calling  to  early  mass,  is  able  to  dispel  it. 

It  is  the  morning  of  December  8th,  in  the  year  1812, 
the  feast  day  of  the  Immaculate  Conception,  a  holy  day 
of  obligation,  and  there  is  not  one  man  or  woman  within 
sound  of  these  ringing  chimes,  physically  able  to  drag 
himself  or  herself  to  church,  who  is  not  in  church.  Soon 
they  are  kneeling  oix  the  bare  tiled  floor,  of  necessity, 
for  only  the  musicians  and  singers,  now  somewhat  noisily 


^Ms^^i^WCIk^w.  .^iWf  ■■MUIHIII 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    31 

preparing  for  service  in  the  choir  loft  above  the  entrance 
door,  are  privileged  to  have  a  bench  upon  which  to  sit. 

A  few  moments  of  waiting,  and  four  Indian  acolytes 
appear  at  the  sacristy  door.  Approaching  with  devout 
genuflexions,  they  commence  to  light  the  altar,  and  as 
the  flames  flicker  into  steady  glow,  the  nine  statues,  set 
in  the  nine  niches  of  the  reredos,  seem  to  step  out  from 
their  shadowed  recesses  and  bless  the  kneeling  people. 
There  is  Mary  Magdalene,  whose  shining  face  endears 
her  to  all  penitent  women;  Dominic,  who,  as  founder 
of  the  Dominicians,  fought  for  the  conversion  of  heretics, 
and  fights  here  again  to-day;  Antony,  who  was  forever 
railing  against  covetousness  and  miserliness;  Saint  John, 
the  patron  saint;  Madonnna  with  the  child,  and  Mary, 
the  Blessed  Virgin;  all  seemed  to  be  interceding,  praying, 
and  by  their  presence  bringing  comfort  to  contrite  hearts. 

The  candle  light,  reflected  by  the  heavy  silver  candle- 
sticks adorning  the  altar,  is  caught  up  by  the  two  mirrors 
at  either  side,  and  broken  into  a  hundred  rays  which 
settle  in  aureoles  about  the  sacred  images.  Two  convex 
mirrors,  framed  in  shining  gold,  hang  at  the  altar,  so 
that  the  priests,  even  while  saying  mass,  may  watch 
the  often  restive  Indian  congregation. 

And  every  known  method  is  employed  to  seize  and 
hold  their  wandering  attention.  All  seven  domes  of  the 
church  are  painted  in  as  many  different  garish  colors, 
while  the  sides  are  decked  in  crude  designs  of  raw  pig- 


32  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 
ments,  pleasing  to  their  primitive  taste.  The  walls  are 
thickly  hung  with  pictures  and  statues  of  angels  and 
saints,  and  the  fourteen  stations  of  the  cross.  In  a 
further  attempt  to  assist  the  dull  Indian  mmd  to  grasp 
religious  truths,  every  church  symbol  that  is  calculated 
to  strike  the  ignorant  savage  with  awe  is  also  used — 
pictures  of  hell,  death,  judgment,  and  purgatory.  One 
banner,  which  hangs  clear  of  the  wall.  Is  palnfed  on  both 
sides — the  one  side  with  a  scene  from  the  life  of  the 
Virgin,  the  other  showing  Satan  roasting  In  the  flames 
of  hell;  offering,  as  it  were,  the  choice  of  becoming  a 
subject  of  the  Holy  Mother,  or  broiling  on  the  gridiron 
of  his  Satanic  Majesty,  and  so  realistically  depicted  that 
the  issue  is  seldom  In  doubt. 

At  the  first  movement  of  tne  Mass,  with  the  Kyrie 
Eleison,  the  neophyte  orchestra,  playing  violin,  flute, 
drum  and  cymbal,  accompanies  the  singers.  Stretched 
across  the  music  racks  are  two  huge  leather-covered, 
iron-clasped  hymn-books  whose  vellum  leaves  are  limned 
in  a  gigantic  score,  the  notes  in  different  colors  to  in- 
dicate the  different  parts.  A  choir  master  frantically 
tries  to  direct  with  a  long  pole  closely  resembling  a 
billiard  cue.  And  how  the  Indians  love  to  sing.  What- 
ever they  may  lack  in  melody,  they  make  up  in  power 
of  lung. 

The  Sanctus  bell  rings  thrice,  and  the  faithful  fall 
prostrate — their  heads  almost  touching  the  pavement, 


THE  CONFESSIONAL,  SAN  JUAN  CAPISTRANO 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  33 
their  hands,  the  meanwhile,  fumbhng  with  rude  rosaries. 

At  the  altar,  in  gorgeous  chasuble  of  woven  silk  and 
silver,  the  priest  bowing  low,  says:  hi  spiritu  humilitatis, 
et  in  animo  contrito  suscipiamur  a  te  Domine — (Accept 
us.  Oh  Lord,  in  the  spirit  of  humility  and  contrition  of 
heart,  and  grant  that  the  sacrifice  we  offer  this  day  in 
thy  sight  may  be  pleasing  to  Thee).  There  is  a  deep 
silence,  not  a  movement — not  a  sound.  It  is  as  though 
the  people  are  expecting  a  divine  apparition,  a  mys- 
terious voice,  or  some  awful  revelation  to  come  from 
the  dim  sanctuary. 

The  buildings  slightly  tremble,  but  this  passes  unno- 
ticed by  the  people  in  the  clutch  of  religious  fervor, 
and  the  priest  continues:  Ne  perdas  cum  impiis  animam 
meajn. 

A  low  pitched  rumbling  issues  from  the  earth,  as  it 
rises  and  falls  in  sympathy  with  the  infernal  refrain. 
The  church  rocks  in  violent  movement  until  the  domes 
split  wide  apart  and  the  roof  comes  crashing  to  the 
ground.  The  people,  paralyzed  with  fear,  still  kneel, 
with  bowed  heads  and  clasped  hands,  as  though  life 
itself  were  suspended. 

Another  violent  trembling.  The  bell  tower  sways 
back  and  forth,  and,  gaining  momentum  with  every 
movement,  it  finally  topples  and  falls,  full  length,  upon 
the  Plaza  far  below.  The  gilded  cock,  that  once  topped 
the  spire  in  exultant  pose,  lies  with  broken  wings  and 
sheared  comb,  a  symbol  of  pride's  short  reign. 


34     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

Far  above  the  noise  of  the  crashing  timbers  and 
falling  stones  is  heard  the  voice  of  the  priest,  Sursum 
corda,  as  he  beckons  to  all  to  come  within  the  sanctuary. 
All  who  reach  there  are  saved,  but  not  one  other,  unless 
you  are  to  believe  the  legend  which  tells  that,  in  the 
late  afternoon  whilst  the  workers  are  striving  to  clear 
away  the  wreckage,  a  faint  cry  is  heard  coming  from 
a  mass  of  debris,  and,  digging  deep,  they  find  a  new- 
born babe  who  is  brought  into  the  world  by  the  hand 
of  terror.  The  child  lives  and  is  known  as  Nino  del 
Temblor,  or  Child  of  the  Earthquake. 

It  was  In  November,  1776,  that  this  mission  was 
actually  founded,  though  a  fruitless  attempt  had  been 
made  some  twelve  months  before,  which  causes  some 
historians  to  incorrectly  record  1775  as  the  foundation 
date.  It  was  named  after  St.  John,  born  in  Capis- 
trano — San  Juan  Caplstrano,  a  doughty  old  saint,  always 
in  the  thick  of  every  fight,  usually  in  the  forefront,  with 
a  crucifix  as  his  only  weapon.  But  his  main  claim  to 
sainthood  came,  not  from  fighting  but  from  preaching 
to  the  army  of  Hunyadi,  and  the  Book  of  Golden 
Traditions  naively  recites  at  some  length,  how  very 
"moving"  he  was. 

Many  years  rolled  by  before  the  mission  secured 
the  material  wealth  and  necessary  number  of  converts 
to  even  start  construction  of  the  great  church,  which 


THE  ALTAR  OF  THE  ORIGINAL  CHURCH  OF  SAN  JUAN  CAPISTRANO 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    35 

was  intended  to  be  a  lasting  monument  to  the  Fran- 
ciscan fathers  and  their  devoted  followers.  Not  until 
1797,  eleven  years  after  the  foundation,  did  the  Padres 
find  themselves  strongly  enough  entrenched  to  attempt 
to  cope  with  this  herculean  task;  for  without  architec- 
tural training,  with  unskilled  labor  and  rude  tools,  the 
task  was  inded  herculean  and  the  results  little  short  of 
marvelous.  A  church  was  laid  out  in  the  form  of  a 
Roman  cross,  180  feet  long  and  90  feet  wide,  with 
a  tower  so  high  that  it  could  be  seen  at  least  ten  miles 
away.  The  building  material  was  of  stone,  which  had 
to  be  brought  from  a  quarry  six  miles  distant.  To  do 
this,  the  entire  community  was  enrolled — men  and 
women,  old  and  young;  children,  little  and  big — one 
and  all  carried,  from  quarry  to  building,  such  stones  as 
their  strength  permitted,  creeping  back  and  forth  in  an 
endless  chain,  like  a  stream  of  mason-ants. 

It  took  nine  long  weary  years  before  the  great  church 
could  be  blessed,  and  only  six  short  years  later  came 
the  earthquake  described  in  our  last  section,  and  the 
destruction  of  this  devout  work. 

Judging  from  ruined  cornices,  doorways  and  arches 
which  show  many  an  exquisite  touch,  probably  no  other 
mission  church  was  so  elaborately  carved  as  Caplstrano. 
The  official  records  recount  how  a  master  sculptor  was 
brought  from  Mexico  and  put  in  sole  charge  of  the 
stone  carving,   with   permission   to   carry  out  his  own 


36    CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

Ideas — and  he  certainly  gave  full  sway  to  idolatrous 
fancy.  Most  of  the  keystones  bear  emblems  whose 
significance  is  full  of  mystery,  though  it  should  not  be 
much  eflPort  of  the  imagination  to  lay  them  at  the  door 
of  Aztec  paganism.  Doing  so,  history  would  only  be 
repeating  Itself.  At  the  time  when  Christianity  tri- 
umphed over  paganism,  wealthy  pagans  were  being 
buried  in  sarcophagi,  decorated  with  reliefs  inspired  by 
mythology,  and  the  Christians  who  followed  the  pagan 
example  employed  the  same  artists,  who  were  so  accus- 
tomed to  the  Introduction  of  certain  decorative  motifs, 
that  we  still  see  on  Christian  sarcophagi.  Medusa  heads, 
griffens  and  cuplds,  the  primitive  sense  of  which  has 
long  since  been  forgotten. 

The  present  village  of  Capistrano  remains,  In  spirit, 
much  the  same  religiously  superstitious  town  that  it  was 
years  ago,  even  though  modern  thought  has  forced  a 
change  in  form  and  method.  In  earlier  days  the  great 
drama  of  Calvary  was  accepted  by  the  inhabitants  as 
a  debt  that  must  always  be  paid.  They  were  obsessed 
with  the  conviction  that  the  sufferings  they  individually 
or  collectively  could  inflict  on  some  village  Judas  would 
in  a  way  mitigate  the  sufferings  of  that  far-away  white 
God  about  whose  trials  and  tribulations  the  Padres  daily 
taught  them. 

Following  a  service  called  Las  TInieblas — utter  dark- 
ness— held  In  an  unlightcd  church,  with  even  the  win- 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    37 

dows  covered,  when  boards  studded  with  nails  were 
rasped  together,  boxes  full  of  stones  rattled  and  chains 
clanked — all  expressive  of  the  darkness  and  the  fear- 
some noises  at  the  crucifixion — the  people  betook  them- 
selves to  the  Plaza,  where  four  stakes  had  been  driven 
deep  into  the  ground,  a  wild  bull  tied  to  them,  with  a 
Judas  already  fastened  to  his  back,  awaiting  the  orgy 
of  vengeance.  To  the  clicking  of  prayer  beads  might 
be  heard  "The  days  of  the  sorrows  of  Jesus  are  here 
and  must  be  avenged." 

To-day,  here  alone  in  all  America  (so  far  as  the  writer 
knows),  this  old  ceremony  is  relived  in  an  annual  hang- 
ing of  a  straw  effigy  of  Judas  on  the  day  of  sorrows — 
Good  Friday. 

Capistrano  has  the  questionable  distinction  of  being 
the  first  of  all  the  missions  to  be  secularized,  an  act 
that  took  place  in  1833.  So  great  was  the  destruction 
and  vandalism  that  twenty-two  years  later  all  this  once 
costly  pile  was  sold  for  ^710.  The  church  has  never 
been  rebuilt,  the  cloister  ruins  but  little  restored,  and 
most  of  the  broken  corridor  pillars  give  support  now, 
only  to  rose  and  honeysuckle  vines,  which  fill  the  grass- 
grown  courtyard  with  delicate  fragrance.  When  dusk 
lays  ivts  veiling  hand  over  the  scars  made  by  time  and 
man,  the  Inspiring  beauty  of  this  noble  ruin  fills  the  soul 
with  a  peace  and  joy,  never  to  be  forgotten. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ON  TO   SAN   GABRIEL;   HER   HISTORY,   TOGETHER  WITH 
A   LEGEND   OF   HER   BELLS 

The  El  Camino  Real  plunges  farther  and  farther  into 
the  valley,  and  for  two  hundred  miles  or  more  never  so 
much  as  attempts  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Ocean's  face, 
despite  the  many  enticing  bypaths  and  smooth  asphalted 
roads  which  branch  off  from  the  highway  and  beckon 
seaward.  All  the  way,  well  beyond  Los  Angeles,  the 
seaside  is  fairly  dotted  with  charming  summer  colonies, 
each  modestly  bidding  for  patronage  by  claiming  the 
widest  beach  in  the  world  or  the  deepest  swimming  pool 
on  earth — something  or  other  bigger  or  greater  than 
anywhere  else  on  any  known  hemisphere. 

Soon  the  Kingdom  of  Oranges  is  entered,  and  here 
the  tree  is  sovereign.  Some  are  in  full  maturity,  with 
branches  bending  under  the  golden  fruit;  others  in  the 
springtime  of  youth,  white  with  fragrant  blossoms;  many, 
still  in  baby  clothes,  carefully  nursed  in  cradles  of  wire — 
acres  and  acres  of  yellow  and  green.  Suddenly  the  road 
shifts  from  country  to  city,  when  there  follows  a  pro- 
cession of  assorted   sized   towns,  where  the  houses  in- 

38 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  39 
variably  wrap  themselves  in  wondrous  blankets  of  bou- 
gainvillea,  honeysuckle  or  climbing  rambler,  only  to  hide 
shyly  behind  hedges  of  heliotrope,  geranium  and  calla 
lilies. 

The  first  town  of  importance  is  Anaheim,  blessed 
with  a  strong  German  accent  and  an  evident  pride  in 
the  efficiency  that  brought  the  original  irrigating  plant 
to  California  and  taught  native  Californians  how  much 
better  than  nature-rain  was  the  power  to  make  rain, 
whenever  and  wherever  wanted,  by  merely  turning  a 
spigot.  Then  follows  Fullerton  and  Whittier,  the  last 
a  "friendly"  thee  and  thou  town,  named  by  its  Quaker 
founders  after  their  beloved  poet. 

Only  a  couple  of  miles  farther  and  the  bell  post 
points  to  San  Gabriel  boulevard,  which  runs  straight  to 
the  village  of  that  name.  Another  one  of  those  sleepy 
Spanish-Mexican  villages,  whose  inhabitants  "are  singu- 
larly free  from  the  dread  disease  of  doing  something 
always." 

SAN   GABRIEL 

Not  far  from  Seville,  in  the  little  town  of  Campagna, 
so  famous  for  bell  casting  that  its  name  lives  forever  in 
Campanile  (the  bell  tower),  a  crowd  of  religionists  could 
be  seen  gathering  about  the  well-known  foundry  of  Paula 
Ruelas,  devoutly  eager  to  witness  the  birth  of  a  bell 
which  had  been  consecrated  to  the  holy  church. 


40  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 
In  the  open-air  fire-pit  was  a  huge  cauldron,  brim- 
ming full  of  molten  copper  and  tin,  which  cast  an 
unearthly  glow  over  two  of  Ruelas's  assistants,  as  they 
slowly  stirred  the  spluttering,  sizzling  liquid.  The  model 
shell,  into  which  the  metal  would  soon  be  poured  and 
allowed  to  cool  in  bell  form,  stood  ready,  close  by,  the 
men  only  waiting  the  word  of  command  from  their 
master.  But  there  was  yet  one  further  ceremony  before 
casting,  to-day  merely  a  matter  of  form,  as  only  monks, 
nuns  and  the  poor  of  the  town  were  present.  And 
Ruelas  somewhat  perfunctorily  steps  forward  and  asks: 
"Is  there  anyone  present  who  wishes  to  sweeten  the 
voice  of  this  bell  with  a  silver  offering?"  For  in  these 
days  there  was  a  firm  belief  in  the  efiicacy  of  silver. 

Far  up  in  front,  where  he  had  squirmed  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  stood  little  nine-year-old  Miguel, 
with  a  look  of  childish  exaltation  on  his  face.  Clutched 
tight  in  chubby  hand  was  his  most  cherished  possession — 
a  real  de  plata — which,  for  safety,  had  been  thrust  deep 
into  trouser  pocket.  For  a  moment  he  hesitated,  but 
only  for  a  moment,  and  then  out  from  its  hiding  place 
came  the  little  piece  of  silver,  which  was  dropped  into 
the  steaming  pot.  As  the  coin  struck  the  liquid  fire 
there  appeared  a  tiny  bubble,  which  caught  by  the  air, 
floated  into  space,  a  visible  sign  of  the  undying  spirit  of 
sacrifice. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    41 

Drawn  to  the  foundry  by  an  almost  Irresistible  fas- 
cination, little  Miguel  would  watch  the  workmen,  day 
after  day,  as  they  cautiously  trimmed  and  pared  away 
the  metal,  testing  with  swinging  clapper  after  every 
cutting.  With  each  test  the  tones  grew  sweeter  and 
sweeter,  in  time  vibrating  in  musical  chord,  so 
exquisitely  perfect,  that  all  hailed  the  bell  as  "Angelus," 
and  decreed  that  It  should  be  baptized  by  that  name. 
So,  one  afternoon,  Miguel,  as  silver  sponsor,  found  him- 
self, with  lighted  taper  in  hand,  listening  to  a  white- 
vested  Bishop  and  three  attendant  priests  Intoning  the 
prayers  of  exorcism,  Imploring  divine  assistance  against 
the  evils  of  the  air — the  phantoms,  storms  and  pesti- 
lences. 

The  bell,  first  washed  with  pure  water,  mixed  with 
salt,  was  carefully  dried  with  towels  of  spotless  white. 
Then  it  was  breathed  upon  to  signify  the  expulsion  of 
the  devil,  and  annolnted  with  oil  to  symbolize  the  gift 
of  the  holy  spirit.  Finally,  the  Thurible,  filled  with 
myrrh  and  Incense,  was  placed  beneath  it,  and  as  the 
fragrant  smoke  rose  within,  the  priests  sprinkled  the 
bell  thrice  with  holy  water  and  named  it  "Ave  Maria 
Santisslma."  The  Bishop,  the  meanwhile,  with  out- 
stretched hands,  prayed:  "May  this  bell  be  hallowed. 
Oh  Lord,  and  consecrated  in  the  name  of  the  Father, 
the  Son  and  the  Holy  Ghost.     Peace  be  to  thee." 


42     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

Ancient  usage  declared  that  Miguel  was  spiritually- 
bound  to  the  Angelus  bell  with  bonds  that  neither  time 
nor  distance  could  break. 

Years  passed  and  the  lad  Miguel,  who  had  sacrificed 
his  all  in  boyhood,  now  grown  to  manhood,  dons  the 
brown  garb  of  the  Franciscans,  and  as  Father  Miguel 
Sanchez  consecrated  his  life  to  perpetual  sacrifice.  With 
St.  Francis,  he  believed  that  the  chief  aim  in  life  was  to 
help  others,  not  by  praying  alone  in  a  cell  or  doing 
penance  but  by  "spending  himself"  in  (the)  helping;  so 
when  the  call  came  for  new-world  missionaries  it  was 
only  natural  that  he  should  be  one  of  the  first  to  beg 
for  permission  to  devote  himself  to  work  amongst  the 
Indians  of  America.  His  petition  being  granted,  he 
sailed  for  Mexico,  and  from  thence  journeyed  to  San 
Diego,  where  he  awaited  orders  from  the  Father  Presi- 
dente  who,  in  course  of  time,  appointed  him  to  San 
Gabriel. 

With  a  Christian  Indian  as  his  only  companion  and 
guide.  Father  Miguel  traveled  over  the  trail  blazed  by 
the  Padres  who  went  before  him — a  long,  slender  thread 
stretching  over  the  hills  and  zig-zagging  down  into  the 
canyons  beyond. 

Towards  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day,  after  passing 
through  the  plains  of  San  Gabriel,  filled  with  great  herds 
of  cattle  that  fled  swiftly  at  his  coming,  he  neared  the 
cultivated  fields  where  hundreds  of  Indians  were  work- 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  43 
ing.  Even  as  he  approached,  the  church  bell  tolled  the 
hour  for  prayer,  and  all,  wherever  they  happened  to  be, 
knelt  upon  the  ground;  the  beasts  of  burden  themselves 
stopping  at  the  first  sound  of  the  bell. 

"At  morn,  at  noon,  at  twilight  dim, 
Maria!  thou  hast  heard  my  hymn; 
In  joy  and  woe,  in  good  and  ill. 
Mother  of  God  be  with  us  still." 
The  bell   ceases   to   ring,   and   all   arise — all   except 
Father  Miguel,  who  still  kneels,  as  if  in  a  dream.    Those 
clear  sweet  tones  carry  him  back  to  long  forgotten  days, 
sweeping  away  in  the  rush  of  emotions  all  sense  of  present 
surroundings. 

He  rouses  himself  with  an  effort.  Faintness  from 
lack  of  food  and  the  fatigues  of  the  journey  are  to  blame, 
he  thinks.  But  nevertheless  he  hastens  his  steps,  and 
on  arriving  at  the  bell  tower  mounts  the  ladder  and 
eagerly  scans  the  bell  inscriptions. 

Ave  Maria  Santissima 

Paula  Ruelas 

me  fecit 

1730 

he  reads,  and  man  though  he  is,  he  weeps  for  joy.     It 

is  the  meeting  of  a  beloved  friend,  lost  and  found  again. 

In  all  the  years  that  follow,  no  matter  how  hard  the 

day's  work  nor  how  difficult  or  exacting  the  tasks  that 

lay  before  him,  never  once  did  he  miss  ringing  with  his 


44     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

own  hands  the  Angelus  for  evening  prayer.  Even  when 
the  years  took  their  toll  and  the  strength  from  his  arms, 
the  task  was  as  easy  as  in  the  days  of  his  early  man- 
hood— the  bell  almost  rang  itself.  And  when  at  last, 
just  before  sunset,  after  only  a  few  hours'  illness,  Father 
Miguel  sank  to  his  last  sleep,  legend  asserts  that  the  Ave 
Maria,  in  order  to  announce  his  departure,  began  to 
ring  of  its  own  accord.  "Or  was  it  only  the  bells  in 
heaven  which  rang  out  a  welcome  to  his  pious  soul  upon 
its  entrance  into  the  company  of  angels?" 

Mission  San  Gabriel,  dedicated  in  1771  to  the  Arch- 
angel who,  in  mediaeval  romance  was  known  as  the 
messenger  of  God  who  carried  to  heaven  the  prayers 
of  men,  was  built  in  the  usual  Franciscan  style — Spanish, 
flavored  generously  with  Moorish,  to  which  was  added 
just  a  dash  of  early  French  and  Romanic. 

Grouped  about  a  court  or  patio  were  the  church, 
monastery,  guardhouse  and  secular  quarters,  presenting 
a  solid  outer  wall  practically  unscalable  by  the  natives, 
and  when  the  buildings  were  roofed  with  tile,  safe  even 
against  fire-arrows,  the  favorite  fighting  weapon  of  the 
Indians.  In  San  Gabriel,  for  a  very  considerable  time, 
there  proved  to  be  a  far  greater  need  for  protection 
against  savage  hordes  than  at  most  of  the  other  mis- 
sions, not  because  the  Indians  were  uncommonly  bad, 
but  because  the  soldiers  were  distinctly  worse.     During 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    45 

the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  Spain,  driven 
by  an  overpowering  lust  for  new  and  rich  territory, 
always  employed  the  church  and  her  priests  as  the  most 
inexpensive  and  handy  weapon.  But  her  main  reliance 
was  upon  force,  and  the  soldiery  ever  accompanied  the 
Padre  in  his  pioneer  work.  Usually  these  soldiers  were 
the  off-scourings  of  the  army.  Many  were  convicts. 
Altogether  they  were  an  idle,  Godless  crowd,  who  shunned 
work,  and,  as  far  as  possible,  church;  towards  both  they 
had  to  be  encouraged  rather  forcibly,  just  as  the  Irish- 
man enticed  the  pig  into  the  pen  with  a  pitchfork — the 
Padres'  pitchfork  being  the  religious  superstitions  of  the 
age.  Here  in  San  Gabriel,  with  no  obligatory  military 
duties  to  perform,  the  soldiers  took  to  hunting  as  a 
pastime,  an  innocent  enough  amusement  if  their  choice 
of  game  had  not  been  so  unfortunate;  for  it  happened 
that  many  of  the  Indian  women  had  husbands,  in  whom 
was  aroused  not  only  a  pardonable  skepticism  about  the 
virtues  of  this  new  religion,  but  a  violent  antagonism 
against  those  who  preached  it — a  bitterness  so  actively 
displayed,  that  both  priests  and  soldiers  came  miracu- 
lously near  to  losing  their  lives.  The  Book  of  Holy  Tra- 
ditions cites  several  miracles,  which  alone  prevented  an 
otherwise  certain  death.  Once,  when  entirely  surrounded 
by  superior  numbers  and  about  to  be  massacred,  one  of 
the  friars  raised  aloft  and  waved  the  banner  upon  which 
was  a  picture  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  when  in  a  sudden 


46    CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

transition  from  hate  to  humility,  the  Indians  knelt  and 
made  signs  of  submission.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  according 
to  secular  history,  it  took  almost  two  years  of  patient, 
sacrificing  labor,  on  the  part  of  the  padres,  to  wipe  out 
the  stain  and  regain  the  Indians'  confidence. 

The  church  and  a  small  section  of  the  monastery  are 
the  sole  heirlooms  left  by  these  mission  builders  to  the 
present  generation.    They  make  a  long  wall,  of  pinkish 
gray,  crowned  with  tile  of  dullish  red,  buttressed  at  the 
church  end  by  ten  pillars,  which  relieve  somewhat  its 
fortress-like  appearance.     Between  church  and  monas- 
tery, as  part  of  the  wall,  is  the  beautiful  campanile,  a 
constant  inspiration  to  painter  and  poet. 
"And  every  note  of  every  bell 
Sang:  'Gabriel!'  rang:  *  Gabriel !'_ 
In  the  tower  that  is  left  the  tale  to  tell 
Of  Gabriel  the  Archangel. " 
What  is  left  of  the  monastery  serves  as  a  museum, 
guarded  by  a  shrewd  lay-brother,  who  punches  a  cash 
register  as  you  buy  your  admittance,  with  all  the  assur- 
ance of  a  side-showman.    And,  when  a  sufficiently  large 
crowd  of  sightseers  have  assembled,  he  turns  you  over 
in  a  bunch  to  one  of  the  guides,  who  sing-songs  a  few 
stories  of  the  past,  trots  you  through  the  church  and 
sacristy,  and  turns  you  out  upon  the  street.    Not  at  all 
a  holy  mission  atmosphere,  but  apparently  a  very  lucra- 


THE  STAIRWAY  TO  THE  CHOIR,  SAN  GABRIEL  MISSION 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    47 

tive  performance,  since  the  priests  look  well-fed,  and  the 
buildings  are  well-kept. 

As  the  Mission  San  Gabriel  is  but  a  scant  half  hour's 
automobile  run,  and  a  pleasant  one  at  that,  from  Los 
Angeles  or  Pasadena,  it  would  always  be  included  in  the 
regular  itinerary  of  a  certain  number  of  Southern  Cali- 
fornia's winter  idlers;  but  it  actually  is  visited  by  many 
thousands,  drawn  primarily  by  the  Mission  Play,  pro- 
duced annually  just  opposite  the  church. 

Practically  all  the  roles  in  this  play,  just  as  at  Ober- 
ammergau,  are  assigned  to  the  local  inhabitants,  who  by 
religion  Catholics,  and  by  race  Spanish  or  Mexican,  live 
in  everyday  life  most  of  their  " Darts";  for  the  old  cus- 
toms still  prevail  and  the  'old-time  solemn  processions 
winding  through  the  quiet  streets  with  lighted  tapers, 
garlands  of  flowers  and  smoking  incense,  can  still  be 
seen. 

The  "beads"  are  still  told  and  the  prayers  still  sung 
in  the  old  tongue,  while  even  the  English-taught  school 
children  always  play  in  Spanish.  It  is  a  people  that 
still  blindly  cling  to  the  old  belief  that  God  created  the 
world  in  Spanish,  even  though  the  truth  is  stretched 
when  asserting  "that  the  Tempter  persuaded  Eve  in 
ItaHan,  and  Adam  begged  pardon  in  French." 

In  the  gardens,  still  belonging  to  San  Gabriel  Mis- 
sion, are  a  remnant  of  the  150,000  vines,  which  were 


48    CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

once  fenced  in  by  a  hedge  of  cactus,  twelve  feet  high, 
as  protection  from  the  roaming  cattle.  It  was  at  San 
Gabriel  that  the  first  vineyards  of  California  were  planted, 
and  in  prosperous  years  they  yielded  a  good  thousand 
barrels  of  wine  and  several  hundred  of  brandy.  Since 
July,  1919,  sad  to  relate,  all  the  product  of  these  vines 
must  be  exported  to  the  "heathen." 

The  padres  have  left  on  yellowed  parchment,  in 
beautifully  engrossed  handwriting,  the  history  of  San 
Gabriel  from  the  time  of  its  dedication.  They  tell  of 
the  good  old  days  when  the  mission  lands  extended  for 
miles  in  all  directions — on  the  east  as  far  as  the  very 
mountains.  The  cemetery  and  one  small  field  is  all  that 
remains.  It  was  the  same  sickening  story  of  loot  and 
plunder,  under  the  guise  of  secularization,  which  was  an 
excuse  for  human  as  well  as  material  destruction;  for 
most  of  the  Mission  Indians  (children  always,  whatever 
their  age)  when  left  to  themselves  not  only  lapsed  into 
the  bestial  habits  of  their  former  savage  state,  but  fell 
an  easy  prey  to  all  the  white  man's  vices. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    ROADWAY    TO     SAN    FERNANDO    WITH    A    SKETCH     OF 
HER  RISE  AND  FALL 

Much  of  the  thirty-two-mile  road,  connecting  San 
Gabriel  to  San  Fernando  runs  through  cities  or  suburbs  of 
cities,  with  a  forced  slackening  of  speed  that  makes  the 
old  Padre's  ambling  burro  a  fit  competitor  of  the  modern 
high-powered  car.  But  even  if  this  were  not  so  it  would 
be  an  artistic  sacrilege  to  rush  through  this  wealth  of 
luxuriant  trees,  shrubs  and  flowers.  All  the  way  in  and 
out  of  Pasadena  (the  crown  of  the  valley)  the  smooth 
macadam  is  flanked  by  flower-embowered  bungalows, 
over  which  rose-bushes  clamber  to  the  very  roof-top, 
covering  it  with  thousands  of  blossoms.  One  enthusiast 
claims  that  if  only  a  pole  long  enough  were  available. 
Jack  and  his  bean-stalk  would  be  easily  outdone  by  the 
humblest  flowering  plant  of  California,  but  let  us  try  and 
be  truthful  and  say  that  an  accurate  description  of  this 
Pasadena  seems  to  belie  its  wide  reputation  as  the  ideal 
health  resort  of  the  world — "where  you  freeze  in  the 
morning  and  thaw  out  at  noon;  where  strawberries  and 

49 


50    CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

fur  coats  are  in  evidence  at  the  same  time,  while  open 
fires  and  open  windows  are  the  daily  procedure."  But 
after  all,  does  not  the  joy  of  living  rest  in  life's  contrasts? 

Not  far  away  is  Nuestra  Senora  Reina  de  los  Angeles 
— a  beautiful  and  most  befitting  name  during  the  early 
days  of  that  city's  existence,  when  every  tongue  wagged 
in  slow  stately  Spanish.  Perhaps  no  more  fitting  than 
the  present  day  title  of  "Los"  for  this  Mecca  of  the  middle 
west  and  the  middle  classes.  It  is  a  city  that  prides  her- 
self, first  and  last,  on  her  material  progress  and  modern 
methods,  hiding  away  on  the  shelf  of  oblivion,  just  as 
years  ago  we  atticed  the  furniture  of  our  forefathers, 
every  one  of  the  charming  customs  and  manners  of  by- 
gone days.  Hardly  fifty  years  ago  strangers  visiting  this 
Spanish  settlement  would  be  awakened  by  a  hymn  sung 
to  the  morning  star — every  household  taking  part.  Such 
a  thing  is  impossible,  they  say,  to-day,  people  are  too 
self-conscious.  Yet  the  custom  survives  in  more  rural 
Pasadena,  where,  each  Christmas  and  Easter,  choristers 
parade  the  streets  and  remind  a  sadly  indifferent  world 
of  the  birth  and  resurrection  of  Christ. 

Over  Sunset  boulevard  is  the  way  into  Hollywood,  so 
named  in  remembrance  of  a  mass  to  the  holy  wood  of  the 
cross  celebrated  by  Father  Junipero  Serra,  near  what  is 
now  the  center  of  the  town.  All  forgotten  thes.e  days,  of 
course.  The  town  is  now  the  home  and  center  of  moving 
pictures,  with  a  reputation  suggestively  revealed  in  the 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS     51 

current  epigram:  Are  you  married  or  do  you  live  in 
Hollywood  ? 

Near  the  center  of  the  city  turn  to  the  right  and  over 
Cahuenga  pass,  known  as  the  setting  of  Cahuenga  battle 
and  the  stage  for  the  final  negotiations  between  Colonel 
Fremont  and  General  Pico.  From  there  continue  to 
Sherman  Way,  through  the  clean  modern  towns  of  Lank- 
ershim  and  Van  Nuys,  towards  the  low-lying  hills  that 
lose  themselves  in  dim  perspective  In  the  distance  rise 
two  "picture  palms"  over  a  hundred  feet  high  and  in  age, 
years  over  a  hundred. 

These  are  the  outposts  of  the  Mission  San  Fernando. 

SAN  FERNANDO 

The  last  of  the  California  Franciscans,  Fray  *Tomaso 
Estenago,  was  a  most  worthy  son  and  follower  of  the 
holy  St.  Francis,  living  to  the  very  end  in  accordance 
with  the  highest  ideals  and  traditions  of  that  self-sacri- 
ficing brotherhood. 

Born  in  gloomy  old  Toledo,  in  one  of  those  crumbling 
palaces  imprisoned  just  behind  the  ancient  bastion,  near 
the  gateway  of  Puerto  del  Sol,  where  the  streets  are  so 
narrow  that  the  wheel  hubs  of  passing  vehicles  scrape  the 
walls,  he  passed  all  of  his  younger  days  in  the  midst  of  its 
mediaeval  surroundings.  The  palace's  iron-banded  doors, 
studded  with  enormous  nails,  suggested  the  entrance  way 

*"Fray"  is  Spanish  for  the  Latin  "Frater,"  indicating  a  rehgious  brotherhood. 


52     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

to  mystery,  while  the  dim  court-yards  beyond  seemed 
suitable  for  any  sort  of  crime  and  It  was  entirely  the 
promptings  of  this  environment  that  led  him  to  dedicate 
himself  to  a  vendetta  of  vengeance  on  the  death  of  his 
only  and  well-beloved  brother,  killed  In  a  quarrel.  For 
days  and  nights,  seeking  his  feud  enemy,  he  wandered 
through  the  labyrinth  of  Toledo's  streets;  tirelessly  per- 
sisting In  his  almost  hopeless  task,  until  late  one  evening 
at  a  crossway  where  several  alleys  run  In  opposite  direc- 
tions, he  came  upon  the  murderer,  alone  and  unarmed, 
hiding  In  the  shadow  of  a  portico.  As  he  unsheathed  his 
stiletto,  ready  to  strike,  the  man  fell  en  his  knees  and 
stretching  out  his  arms  In  the  form  of  a  cross.  Implored 
Tomaso,  by  the  mercy  of  Christ  to  spare  his  life.  In  a 
vision  Tomaso  saw  the  drama  of  the  crucifixion  and 
plainly  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  saying.  In  answer  to  the 
thief  who,  fastened  to  the  cross  beside  him,  was  begging 
for  mercy:  "Thou  art  forgiven,  verily  thou  shalt  be 
with  me  in  Paradise."  With  the  simple-minded  belief 
of  the  times  Tomaso  accepted  this  as  a  sign  and  embraced 
his  enemy.  Together  they  entered  the  church  of  Santa 
Maria  La  Blanca,  and  prostrated  themselves  before  the 
crucifix.  The  one  sobbing  out  his  thanks  for  having  been 
saved  from  crime;  the  other  penitently  Imploring  forgive- 
ness for  the  crime  committed.  As  they  prayed  they  both 
seemed  to  see  the  figure  of  Christ  bow  his  head  in  token 
of  the  remission  of  sins — and  peace  entered  their  souls. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS     53 

After  this,  life  completely  changed  for  Tomaso,  and  his 
old  world  saw  him  no  more.  Almost  immediately  he 
made  his  profession  as  a  novitiate  in  the  Franciscan  con- 
vent. Being  of  noble  birth  and  highly  educated  for  the 
age  in  which  he  lived,  his  progress  was  exceedingly  rapid 
and  in  a  very  few  years  Rome  offered  him  every  prefer- 
ment, but  his  youthful  experience  had  enflamed  him  with 
the  burning  desire  to  convert  sinners  and  no  gift  within 
the  power  of  the  church  could  turn  him  from  this  purpose. 
Caught  in  the  current  of  missionary  fervor  at  that  time 
sweeping  over  Spain,  he  was  carried  to  far-away  Cali- 
fornia and  to  the  Mission  of  San  Fernando. 

Father  Tomaso  Estenaga  was  alone  and  for  the  nonce, 
in  spite  of  wonderful  courage  and  steadfast  faith,  his 
thoughts  seemed  v/eighted  with  a  grief  impossibly 
heavy!  The  austere  adobe  cell  in  which  he  sat  was  little 
calculated  to  bring  solace  to  either  body  or  mind,  and 
as  he  glanced  about  it  a  smile  flickered  across  his  gentle 
face,  when  he  remembered  the  recent  tirade  of  the  Father 
Presidente  against  too  luxurious  living  and  the  demand 
for  a  strict  adherence  to  the  Franciscan  rule  of  absolute 
poverty.  Except  for  the  crucifix  standing  in  one  corner, 
in  front  of  which  the  tile  flooring  was  worn  by  many  hours' 
devotion,  there  was  only  a  four-legged  rough-hewn  wooden 
frame,  covered  with  rawhide,  that  served  as  a  bed,  one 
chair  and  a  rude  bench-table.  The  single  window,  open- 
ing out  onto  the  long  shaded  corridor,  was  heavily  grilled 


54     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

with  iron,  keeping  the  room  for  most  of  the  day  In  semi- 
darkness.  Subconsciously  he  contrasted  these  surround- 
ings with  the  splendors  of  his  old  Toledo  palace-home,  but 
even  as  he  did  so  the  setting  sun,  now  in  line  with  the 
window,  cast  a  halo  of  light  about  the  figure  stretched  in 
agony  upon  the  cross,  which  seemed  to  say  "I  saved 
others,  myself  I  would  not  save."  ^^  Mea  maxima  culpa,''^ 
murmured  the  priest,  "how  wonderful  to  be  able  to  pay 
to  God  that  which  one  has  vowed  to  God,"  and  with  a 
lightened  heart  he  took  from  the  table  in  front  of  him  the 
document,  which  had  caused  his  former  melancholy. 

The  backwash  from  the  sea  of  revolt,  started  in 
Mexico  by  the  Creole  priest  Miguel  Hidalgo  in  1810,  had 
long  since  swept  over  the  Missions  of  California.  The 
French  revolution  and  the  Napoleonic  wars  having  drawn 
Spain  into  the  "whirlwind  of  red  terror,"  Carlos  IV  was 
forced  to  abdicate  in  favor  of  Ferdinand  VII  and  he  in 
turn  was  driven  out  by  Joseph  Bonaparte,  so  Spain  had 
no  time  to  think  of  what  might  be  happening  across  the 
Atlantic,  and  being  able  to  spare  neither  troops  nor  money 
her  colonies  must  shift  for  themselves. 

California  found  herself  obliged  to  apply  to  the  mis- 
sions for  relief.  At  first  with  apologies  and  an  outward 
show  of  deference,  later  emboldened  by  the  ease  with 
which  supplies  were  obtained,  the  Governor  requisitioned 
huge    amounts,    giving    In    return    drafts    on    bankrupt 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    55 

Mexico,  apparently  on  the  theory  that  the  missions  were 
like  "cows  that  could  be  milked  without  feeding." 

"Only  Thursday  to-day,"  thinks  Father  Estenaga, 
"and  it  is  the  second  time  this  week  that  I  have  received 
such  peremptory  demands."  Once  again  he  reads  the 
order. 

How  am  I  to  keep  on  meeting  these  Increasing  exac- 
tions .f*  Can  it  be  that  my  first  duty  is  to  my  king  rather 
than  to  my  religious  charges  .f*  But  in  his  heart  he  knew 
well  that  that  question  had  been  answered  centuries  ago, 
for  the  Church,  while  the  mouthpiece  of  God,  was  ever  in 
subjection  to  royalty,  and  the  official  representative  of 
the  Spanish  king  must  be  obeyed. 

For  nearly  a  year  now,  because  of  lack  of  funds. 
Father  Estenaga  had  been  obliged  to  deprive  the  Indians 
of  those  weekly  rewards  so  dear  to  their  childish  hearts. 
No  longer,  after  each  Sunday  mass,  were  to  be  seen  those 
happy  processions,  headed  by  the  mission  orchestra, 
wending  their  way,  with  song  and  music,  to  the  convento 
door  where  he  stood  waiting  to  distribute  to  one  a  hand- 
kerchief, to  another  a  dress,  here  a  bright  trinket,  there 
a  bit  of  money,  with  an  encouraging  and  happy  word  to 
each  and  a  final  benediction  to  all.  And  there  was  no  use 
to  deceive  himself,  he  must  keep  on  giving  so  long  as 
there  was  left  anything  that  would  content  the  insatiable 
demands  of  the  officials  and  the  indolent  troops. 

Months  later,  Iturbide,  Mexico's  first  emperor,  was 


56    CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

forced  to  abdicate,  and  the  succeeding  republic  showed 
even  less  affection  for  religion  than  had  the  Empire,  issu- 
ing a  proclamation  that  all  Indians  desiring  to  leave  the 
missions  might  do  so.  In  furtherance  of  this  proclama- 
tion, Don  Miguel  Alvardo  went  to  the  Mission  San  Fer- 
nando, and  ordered  Father  Estenaga  to  assemble  all  the 
Indians.  Half  naked  and  barefoot  they  gathered  about 
the  Plaza,  gazing  in  sullen  silence  at  the  soldiers  who  had 
robbed  them  of  the  clothes  and  shoes  that  rightfully 
belonged  to  them.  In  bombastic  style  DonAlvarado, 
harangued  the  neophytes,  urging  with  all  eloquence  that 
they  should  free  themselves  from  priestly  shackles. 
Henceforth,  he  acclaimed,  your  trials  will  be  over;  no 
tyrannical  priest  can  compel  you  to  work,  you  will  be 
citizens  of  a  free  and  glorious  republic  with  none  to 
molest  or  punish.  And  then  he  called  upon  all  who  wished 
to  enjoy  these  blessings  of  freedom  to  step  to  the  right, 
while  those  content  to  remain  under  the  hideous  bondage 
of  the  Padres  should  keep  to  the  left. 

If  Father  Estenaga  ever  craved  a  recompensing  re- 
ward for  his  long  sacrificing  and  tender  paternal  care,  he 
received  it  then  and  there  to  a  hundred  times  a  hundred. 
Of  all  that  throng  of  unfortunate,  overworked,  poverty- 
stricken  Indians  just  nineteen  sneaked  to  the  right  and 
they  shamefacedly  soon  crept  back  to  their  companions, 
drawn  up  in  solid  ranks  on  the  left. 

But  the  government  had  only  fired  the  opening  gun: 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  57 
tax  upon  tax  was  imposed,  forced  loans  were  made,  cattle 
were  killed  without  even  the  mere  form  of  consent  of  their 
owners.  Immense  tracts  of  land  belonging  to  the  mis- 
sions, ever  since  their  foundation,  were  granted  to  favor- 
ites and  then  as  if  drunk  with  the  wine  of  their  own 
excesses,  the  assembly  forced  through  a  decree  legalizing 
the  seizure  of  everything  except  the  churches  themselves 
and  one  room  for  the  resident  priest.  Most  of  the  major- 
domos  placed  in  charge  by  the  government  were  incompe- 
tent or  stupid,  allowing  the  property  to  drift  to  ruin; 
some  were  thoroughly  dishonest,  ready  to  sell  anything — 
livestock,  kitchen  utensils,  farm  implements,  tools  from 
the  shops,  tiles  from  the  roofs — anything  with  which  to 
feather  their  own  nests. 

Through  it  all  Father  Estenaga  clung  to  his  post, 
watching  with  breaking  heart  his  spiritual  flock  dwindle 
day  by  day,  as  the  buildings  that  once  housed  them  were 
one  by  one  wrecked  and  pillaged  beyond  repair,  while  the 
once  vast  herds,  that  fed  them,  disappeared  over  night. 
He  refused  to  leave  even  when  the  ruin  was  so  complete 
that  It  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  he  and  a  hand- 
ful of  faithful  loving  Indians  could  scrape  together  food 
enough  for  their  barest  needs. 

Each  day  as  of  old,  though  the  church  was  in  ruins  and 
the  altar  stripped  of  its  glory,  he  recited  mass,  ever  hoping 
that  the  good  God  would  turn  the  hearts  of  their  perse- 
cutors.   But  day  by  day  this  little  band  grew  poorer  and 


58    CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

poorer,  forced  at  last  to  subsist  on  roots  and  wild  berries, 
while  Father  Estenaga,  secretly  denied  himself  of  even 
this  scant  fare  so  that  his  loyal  followers  might  have  the 
more.  One  morning  at  the  Kyrie  of  the  mass  he  was  seen 
to  totter.  Rushing  to  him,  the  Indians  heard  a  faint 
Domine  ecce  ad  sum — (God,  I  am  here),  and  he  fell  back 
dead — of  starvation. 

A  pretty  legend  tells  of  a  flock  of  swallows 
that  just  then,  entering  through  the  broken  roof, 
alighted  about  his  fallen  body,  twittering  "svalo," 
"svalo"  (hence  their  name),  meaning  "consolation;  I 
bring  consolation." 

San  Fernando,  Rey  de  Espagna,  to  give  the  mission  its 
full  title,  was  named  after  a  Spanish  King,  Ferdinand, 
who  was  canonized,  so  far  as  the  records  seem  to  relate, 
on  account  of  the  exceeding  peace  and  happiness  of  his 
home  life,  to  be  for  all  posterity  a  brilliant  example. 
The  chronicle  goes  on  to  explain  that  he  was  much  under 
the  Influence  of  his  mother  who  lived  with  him  after  his 
marriage.  Whether  the  "peace  and  happiness"  was  in 
spite  of  this  or  because  of  this  the  records  fail  to  state; 
presumably  the  former,  for  otherwise  the  mother  would 
have  been  canonized  and  not  the  son. 

At  any  rate,  the  day  good  Father  Crespi  reached  that 
broad  fertile  valley  lying  in  the  shadow  of  Sierra  Madre — 
a  valley  that  his  earthly  self  recognized  as  the  ideal  home 
for  his  religious  brethren — he  fumbled  a  well-worn  parch- 


I 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    59 

ment  calendar  and  discovered  the  day  to  be  St.  Ferdi- 
nand's day,  and  so,  according  to  usage,  the  mission  be- 
came San  Fernando. 

This  was  in  September,  in  the  year  1797,  but  for  some 
reason,  apparently  not  of  record,  the  first  chapel  built  of 
adobe  was  not  blessed  until  1806,  and  not  until  1818  was 
the  large  church  (the  present  structure)  ready  for  use. 
This  was  also  built  entirely  of  adobe  which  in  part 
explains  the  forlorn,  tumble-down  ruin  of  to-day.  The 
mission,  religiously,  followed  along  the  same  path  as  did 
all  its  fellows,  converting  its  full  share  of  savages,  and 
bringing  under  its  peaceful  sway  all  the  wild  men  and  the 
wild  lands  for  miles  around.  But  in  this  respect  it  was 
no  more  notable  than  many  of  the  other  missions.  San 
Fernando's  real  fame  rests  rather  on  material  associations, 
for  gold  was  first  discovered  there  and  discovered  by  one 
of  her  own  Mission  Indians  who,  while  hunting  for  stray- 
ing cattle,  stopped  to  rest  In  the  canyon  San  Felice  just 
as  the  Sun  reached  Its  zenith.  Lying  at  full  length  under 
the  shade  of  a  big  oak  tree  he  happened  to  espy  a  cluster 
of  wild  onions,  of  which  he  was  Inordinately  fond,  and 
lazily  stretching  out  his  arm  with  sheath  knife  in  hand 
he  began  to  dig  about  their  roots.  Up  came  the  onions — 
and  a  nugget  of  gold.  The  Padres  endeavored  to  keep 
the  secret — not  that  they  so  much  wanted  the  gold,  but 
they  did  not  want  the  rough  characters  the  news  would 
surely  bring.  But  all  In  vain.  Hundreds  flocked  to  the 
canyon  and  have  left  their  imprints  in  such  local  names  as 


60     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

"Swell-head  Diggings,"  "Shirt-tall  Canyon"  and  "Hell's 
Hollow." 

American  military  history  has  also  marked  this  mis- 
sion with  her  own  stamp  of  fame,  for  here  was  fought  the 
deciding  conflict  when  California  rose  to  drive  out  the 
Alexlcans,  and  here  In  later  years  General  Fremont  and  his 
troops  were  quartered  until  the  signing  of  the  Cahuenga 
treaty,   which   closed   all   hostilities   against   the  United 
States.    The  casual  visitor  of  to-day  finds  only  a  rickety, 
crumbling  church   and,   where   the  buildings  once  con- 
nected church  to  convents,  a  shapeless  mass  of  adobe,  the 
earthen  bricks  washed  by  torrential  rains  back  to  the 
ground  from  which  they  sprung — "dust  to  dust."     The 
convento  proper,  thanks  to  a  rich  Mexican  archbishop, 
who  was  driven  from  his  own  country  by  Carranza  at  the 
time  of  the  expulsion  of  the  religious  orders,  settled  in  the 
Fernando  Valley,  has  been  propped    and  shored  into  a 
semblance  of  its  former  self.     But  the  local  painter  and 
local  carpenter  have  done  their  best  to  disguise  this  bless- 
ing.    The  original  grill-work  of  wrought  iron,  to  be  sure, 
still  covers  the  windows  and  the  old  red  tile  still  brightens 
the  roof,  but  the  rich  brown  age-colored  arches  and  pillars 
are  now  daubed  with  a  plaster  of  staring  white  and  the 
quaint  irregular  monastic  rooms  within  have  been  ham- 
mered into  straight  and  tenement  form. 

If  only  those  rooms  could  talk,  what  tales  they  have 
to  tell! 


CHAPTER  VI 

TO      SAN      BUENAVENTURA      AND      THE      STRANGE 
TALE  OF  THE  FOUR  CATS 

If  Still  inclined  to  literally  trail  the  historic  footsteps 
of  the  old  Padres,  a  few  miles  of  the  highway  already 
traveled  must  be  retraced — back  through  Van  Nuys  to 
Sherman  Way — then  on  to  El  Camino  Real  de  San  Buena- 
ventura; another  sonorous  mouthful  of  a  name,  com- 
pressed by  modern  impatient  lips  into  Ventura  Road. 
Close  alongside  the  Santa  Monica  Mountains  it  runs, 
mostly  level  and  straight-away,  for  the  "Master  Builder" 
has  fashioned  these  mountains  with  a  nearly  unbroken 
front,  only  twice  stretching  out  a  rocky  arm,  over  which 
the  road  finds  its  way  without  effort. 

The  summit  of  Conejo  Pass,  the  higher  of  the  two, 
fails  to  give  the  promised  "unrivalled  view."  California 
always  appears  to  be  envious  of  praise  bestowed  on 
beauties  elsewhere  and  tries  to  enhance  the  charms  of  her 
own  wonderful  gifts  of  nature  by  extravagant  exaggera- 
tion, whose  children  are  inevitably  Disappointment  and 
Disenchantment.  Here  one  Is  on  the  edge  of  a  mountain 
wall  encircling  one  of  the  sweetest  and  most  fertile  valleys 

61 


62     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

in  California — the  one  Sydney  Smith  must  have  had  in 
mind  when  he  wrote;  "Tickle  her  with  a  hoe  and  she  will 
laugh  with  a  harvest."  At  your  feet  far  below  unrolls  a 
wonderous  panorama,  a  series  of  views  that  carries  the 
eye  almost  to  Ventura — quite  colorful  enough  without 
the  too  highly  colored  description  "unrivalled."  A  four- 
mile  descent  of  easy  loops  offers  not  the  slightest  difficulty, 
though  a  few  years  back  an  illogical  county  law  pro- 
nounced it  dangerous  and  four  miles  an  hour  the  extreme 
of  speed. 

But  once  on  the  level  you  rapidly  approach  Camarillo, 
the  site  of  a  one-time  rancheria,  belonging  to  the  pioneer 
Spanish  family  of  that  name,  whose  descendants  still  own 
thousands  of  neighboring  acres — all  devoted  to  beans-, 
with  a  crop  so  valuable  (and  properly  so  when  one  re- 
members that  beans  is  derived  from  the  French  "biens" 
— ^property,  money),  that  they  have  just  erected  a  slightly 
mission-like  church  in  thank  offering  for  this  splendid 
material  prosperity.  It  is  explained  by  some  writer  that 
the  enormous  bean  profit  in  California  is  due  to  the  beans 
requiring  little  labor — no  poling  as  in  the  East;  for  suc- 
cumbing to  the  dreamy  atmosphere  they  show  no  desire 
to  climb  but  just  lie  lazily  along  the  ground. 

Largely  to  prove  an  independence  of  spirit,  the  next 
town.  El  Rio,  openly  scorn's  beans,  swearing  allegiance  to 
beets,  and  they'll  show  you,  if  you  are  interested,  seven 
beets    that    weight    five    hundred    pounds!     But    once 


nil,  MlNSlON  OF  SAN  BUENAVKMIRA 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    63 

across  the  Santa  Clara  River  such  gross  materialism  is 
left  behind  and  you  behold  the  land  of  romanticism — 
Montavalo — honoring  the  Spanish  author  in  whose  novel 
the  name  "California"  first  appears. 

And  his  imagination  is  so  Californian! 

"Be  it  known  unto  you  that  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
Indies  Is  an  Island  formed  of  the  largest  rocks  known  and 
called  California.  It  Is  very  near  Terrestrial  Paradise. 
This  Island  is  Inhabited  by  dark  women  of  great  strength 
and  great,  warm  hearts.  They  have  many  ships  In  which 
they  make  excursions  to  other  countries  where  they  catch 
men  whom  they  carry  away  and  subsequently  kill. 
When  children  are  born  only  the  females  are  preserved. 
There  are  many  griffins  on  the  island  which  the  women 
bring  up  with  such  skill  that  they  do  them  no  harm,  but 
attack  any  man  reckl'ess  enough  to  enter  the  island.  The 
griffins  generally  eat  the  man,  but  when  their  appetite 
is  sated  they  fly  into  the  air  with  them,  letting  them  fall 
from  great  heights,  kiHing  them  instantly!" 

By  the  time  one  has  finished  reading  this  naive  descrip- 
tion of  "women  with  great  warm  hearts"  you  find  your- 
self in  front  of  the  Mission  San  Buenaventura,  seventy- 
one  miles  from  Los  Angeles. 

SAN  BUENAVENTURA 

Padre  Francisco  Uria  rose  hastily  from  beside  the 
rude  leather  cot  where,  immediately  after  administering 


64    CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

extreme  unction,  he  had  knelt  in  contrite  prayer.  In  his 
first  rebellion  at  what  seemed  God's  desertion  he  had 
altogether  forgotten  that  it  was  his  bounden  duty,  having 
watched  the  last  breath  of  a  dying  brother,  to  toll  the 
bell,  hanging  just  outside  the  chapel  door,  that  the  angels 
might  know  another  spirit  was  on  its  way,  and  made 
ready  for  the  home-coming. 

Ave  Regina  Coelorum! 

The  sad  notes  echoed  and  re-echoed  through  the  silent 
corridors.  Each  solemn  stroke  brought  forth  from  within 
the  heart  of  Father  Uria  an  answering  chord  of  loneliness, 
as  more  fully  and  vividly  than  ever  before  he  realized 
that  his  brother  Franciscan,  who  had  labored  with  him 
side  by  side  for  eleven  long  years,  had  now  left  him  to 
labor  alone,  with  no  companion  other  than  the  brutish, 
ignorant  savage. 

But  one  of  these  self-same  ignorant,  brutish  neophytes 
revealed  a  discerning  sympathy  seldom  to  be  found 
amidst  so-called  higher  civilization.  Instinctively  that 
faithful  old  Indian  servant  appreciated  that  his  master 
was  now  without  companionship;  without  the  "good  com- 
pany and  good  discourse  that  are  the  very  sinews  of 
virtue";  without  the  quiet  enduring  affection  of  friend- 
ship— and  slowly  there  formed  in  that  primitive  mind, 
versed  in  the  wisdom  of  the  woods  and  the  wilderness,  a 
plan  to  bring  consolation. 

At   dusk   he   stole  outside   the   adobe   church  walls, 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    65 

down  thro.ugh  th.e  cornfields  that  lay  between  the  Mis- 
sion and  the  sea,  as  amongst  the  high-tasseled  maize, 
showing  brown  and  green  above  his  head,  he  would  soon 
be  lost  to  view.  Concealed  in  the  rough  of  the  grain, 
where  it  had  crept  so  close  to  the  surf  that  every  flood-tide 
watered  its  roots,  he  found  his  boat  just  as  he  had  left 
it  the  morning  before.  Silently  shoving  into  the  breakers, 
he  paddled  out  to  the  Spanish  vessel  moored  within  hail- 
ing distance  and  no  sooner  alongside  than  he  disappeared 
into  the  shadows  of  the  forward  hatchway,  only  to  as 
quickly  rfeappear,  clutching  beneath  his  scrape  the  stolen 
treasure  for  which  he  had  come. 

Back  again  through  the  cornfields  and  up  to  the  barred 
windows  of  his  master's  sleeping  room  without  discovery. 
Peeping  within  and  finding  to  his  joy  that  it  was  still 
empty,  he  hurriedly  slipped  through  the  gate  and  along 
the  corridor  until  he  reached  the  Padre's  door,  which  he 
stealthily  opened;  then  emptying  the  contents  of  his 
basket  on  the  bed,  he  vanished  Into  the  darkness. 

On  the  bed  lay  four  little  kittens! 

This  savage  knew  that  when  men  went  Into  the  wilder- 
ness and  loneliness  they  cherished  a  cat  more  than  any 
other  living  creature,  and  so  Intimate  becamiC  the  two 
that  almost  human  friendship  and  affection  sprang  up 
between  them.  And  so  It  was  with  Father  Uria.  When, 
a  few  moments  later,  entering  his  desolate  room,  and 
discovering  four  little  strangers  in  possession  of  his  bed. 


66    CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

he  found  that  it  was  impossible  to  resist  the  appeal  of 
these  God-sent  "fuzzy  lumps  of  playfulness"  and  took 
them  to  his  heart  once  and  for  all. 

As  a  conscientious  priest,  he  at  once  baptized  them; 
naming  the  tawny-orange  two,  descendants  of  Egypt, 
after  his  favorite  saints — ^Maria  de  la  Concepion  and  de 
los  Dolores — Concha  and  Lola;  the  third,  sandy  and  short- 
haired,  in  honor  of  Saint  Joseph — ^Pepito;  and  then, 
being  above  all  a  true  Franciscan,  he  called  the  fourth, 
Frasquito.  Upon  him,  dressed  in  aristocratic  suit  of 
tortoise-shell  he  lavished  the  greatest  affection,  though 
all  were  admitted  to  the  same  intimacy.  To  see  one  was 
to  see  five — four  cats  and  a  man.  All  five  ate  together, 
walked  together  and  snoozed  together.  But  the  first 
to  awake  was  always  Frasquito,  and  in  proof  of  the  truth 
of  the  Chinese  legend  that  cats  are  living  clocks,  he  awoke 
every  morning  at  just  five  forty-five,  never  varying  a 
single  minute.  Immediately  he  would  jump  up  on  the 
bed,  crawl  to  the  pillow  and  gaze  steadfastly  into  the 
face  of  the  Padre.  If  that  failed  to  awaken  him  a  gentle 
poke  in  the  cheek  with  the  most  velvety  of  paws  was  sure 
to  do  so.  At  once  with  tender  touch,  electric  with  sym- 
pathy, the  Padre  would  stroke  Frasquito,  thus  answering 
the  questioning  in  those  luminous  yellow  eyes. 

Father  Uria  always  contended  that  the  gift  of  speech 
had  not  been  denied  these  companions  of  his,  but  rather 
that  the  defect  lay  within  himself,  in  not  altogether  under- 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  67 
Standing  their  language.  There  could  be  no  doubt,  he 
claimed,  but  that  they  talked  and  reasoned  with  one 
another,  apparently  actuated  by  human  thoughts  and 
impulses.  Finally  he  came  to  believe  that  they  were  able 
to  understand  him  and  in  his  hours  of  leisure  he  con- 
versed with  them  upon  every  conceivable  subject,  though 
principally  instructing  them  in  the  mysteries  of  religion; 
carefully  defining  the  difference  between  right  and  wrong, 
just  as  he  would  do  with  his  often  less  intelligent  Indian 
pupils.  If  their  talk  in  the  late  afternoon  was  interrupted 
by  the  Angelus,  all  five  would  kneel  down  at  their  has- 
socks. Concha,  Lola,  Pepito  and  Frasquito  remaining 
with  devoutly  clasped  paws  until  the  master  arose  from 
his  prayers. 

So  all  the  greater  was  the  shock  when  the  knowledge 
was  forced  upon  him  that  environment  and  priestly 
teaching  were  not  as  influential  as  original  sin.  Quiet, 
orderly  Concha  began  to  exhibit  a  desire  to  roam,  making 
it  clear  that  she  was  weary  of  having  to  account  for  all 
her  days  and  being  locked  up  at  night.  Finally  she  dis- 
appeared altogether  until  one  sad  Sunday  morning  Padre 
Uria  found  her  a  picture  of  innocent  contentment,  beam- 
ing in  rapture  on  six  newly-born  infants  at  her  breast. 
It  was  scandalous,  if  natural,  and  the  Padre  hastened  to 
remove  this  "harvest  of  shame,"  comforting  himself  with 
the  thought  that  like  all  kinds  of  people,  there  are  all 
kinds  of  cats,  worthy  and  unworthy. 


68    CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

Though  always  to  be  seen  with  Concha,  Lola,  Pepito 
and  Frasquito  the  good  Padre  was  by  no  means  abso- 
lutely cut  off  from  human  white  companionship.  Travel- 
ers were  not  infrequent  on  El  Camino  .Real  which  began 
at  San  Diego  and  ended  at  Sonoma,  and  as  it  was  without 
inns  or  taverns,  wanderers  along  this  road,  whatever  their 
nation  or  creed,  always  made  the  missions  their  stopping 
place  and  for  the  Padres  a  multitude  of  friends. 

Padre  Uria  came  forth  once  to  meet  a  traveler  down 
this  road;  stretching  out  his  hand  in  greeting.  As  soon 
as  dismounted,  a  drink  of  aguardiente  was  offered  him, 
immediately  followed  by  the  usual  queries  dictated  by 
Spanish  etiquette:  the  stranger's  name,  his  occupation 
and  the  object  of  his  travel;  the  Padre  the  meanwhile 
giving  all  the  facts  about  himself,  in  which  the  stranger 
might  be  interested. 

Then  with  a  hearty  "Gusta  Usted  comer  con  migo," 
he  was  escorted  into  the  Refectory,  where  the  evening 
meal  was  promptly  spread. 

Just  as  they  were  ready  to  be  seated,  the  door  flew 
open  and  in  trooped  Concha,  Lola,  Pepito  and  Frasquito 
— Frasquito  having  sprung  to  the  catch,  where  his  weight 
bearing  down  on  the  thumb-piece  allowed  the  door  to 
open.  Each  went  to  his  or  her  own  particular  place, 
patiently  waiting  to  be  served;  for  the  Padre  had  taught 
them  that  to  snatch  food  was  gluttinous  and  as  one  of 
the  seven  deadly  sins — forbidden. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  69 
During  the  long  talk  that  ensued,  Frasquito  and  the 
others  seems  all  attention,  apparently  absorbing  every 
word.  Each  time  Father  Uria  would  turn,  asking  if  they 
understood,  their  eyes  would  half  close  and  their  small 
pink  mouths  open,  showing  little  white  teeth  in  a  genuine 
smile  of  appreciation. 

Years  rolled  by  and  the  time  finally  came  for  Father 
Uria  to  lay  down  his  burden.  Gathered  about  him  were 
the  faithful  four.  According  to  competent  witnesses,  as 
soon  as  the  Padre  breathed  his  last,  Frasquito,  the  Padre's 
favorite,  stalked  out  into  the  corridor,  up  to  the  chapel 
where  hung  the  bell  of  mourning,  when  leaping  to  the  rope 
he  swung  himself  backward  and  forward,  tolling  out  to 
the  angels  the  advent  of  another  spirit,  as  was  the  custom 
with  the  Franciscans,  after  whom  he  had  been  baptized. 

Giovanni  de  Fidenza,  born  in  1221,  was  a  celebrated 
writer  and  teacher  of  mystic  theology.  So  great  an 
authority  in  so  abstruse  and  remote  a  subject  should  by 
rights  have  been  tall,  spare  and  austere.  Not  so  Giovanni, 
who  was  short,  round  and  rosy,  with  so  cheery  a  person- 
ality that  Saint  Francis,  meeting  him  on  the  street  by 
chance,  exclaimed  "O  Buona  Ventura!"  As  Buenaven- 
tura he  became  one  of  the  great  saints  in  the  seraphic 
family  of  St.  Francis,  all  of  whom  according  to  mystic 
theology  are  six  winged  angels,  continuously  in  the  pres- 
ence of  God  and  praising  him.     He  also  became  patron 


70    CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

of  this  mission.  A  bit  of  nepotism  (don't  you  think?) 
to  draw  from  this  one  seraphic  family  all  the  patron  saints 
of  California!  Long  before  the  original  expedition  even 
started,  the  Governor  General  and  Father  Serra  decreed 
that  the  third  mission  should  have  the  name  of  San 
Buenaventura,  and  be  situated  half-way  between  one  In 
the  port  of  San  Diego  and  one  In  that  of  Monterey, 
selecting  approximately  the  present  sites  from  a  map 
drawn  by  Viscaino,  on  one  of  his  earlier  voyages.  The 
Governor  General,  so  the  records  relate,  was  particularly 
interested  In  the  Mission  Buenaventura,  personally 
superintending  the  packing  of  all  its  goods,  among  which 
the  records  show  were  red  pepper,  garlic  and  "burn-the- 
intestines  spices,"  foreshadowing,  it  must  be,  that  this 
mission  was  to  have  the  reputation  of  caring  better  for 
the  inner  man  than  any  other  mission  on  the  coast.  But 
as  always,  God  disposes  where  man  proposes,  and  Instead 
of  being  the  third  it  was  the  ninth  foundation,  the  last 
to  be  founded  by  Serra  before  his  death.  It  was  not 
until  March  31,  1782,  that  the  venerable  Father  Presi- 
dente  blessed  and  took  possession  of  the  ground,  raising 
on  the  highest  hill  In  the  neighborhood  a  rough-hewn 
cross  which  was  to  serve  a  two-fold  purpose:  to  be  a  guide 
for  the  souls  of  the  faithful  as  well  as  for  the  ships,  bringing 
supplies  to  the  mission.  When  the  ravages  of  time  made 
it  necessary,  other  crosses  were  raised  on  the  same  hill, 
in  the  same  spot,  where  you'll  find  one  to-day. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS     7  i 

To  build  a  church  of  stone  and  brick,  with  walls  six 
feet  thick,  when  there  were  only  two  priests  who  had  any 
knowledge  of  construction,  and  they  were  obliged  to 
instruct  the  Indian  workers  in  every  branch  of  manual 
labor,  seems  an  impossibility,  but  there  the  church  stands 
to-day  in  proof  that  all  things  are  possible.  To  decorate 
the  interior  a  beautiful  high  altar  was  brought  from 
Mexico;  pictures  were  shipped  from  Peru,  and  from  Spain 
came  an  exquisitely  carved  pulpit  which  the  hand  of  mis- 
taken progress  has  now  swept  away.  The  gardens  within 
the  huge  quadrangle  then  surrounding  the  greater  part  of 
the  present  town  were  visions  of  wealth  and  beauty,  and 
wealth  seems  the  only  word  to  apply  when  one  garden 
produces  apples,  peaches,  pears,  plums,  oranges,  figs, 
pomegranates,  grapes,  cocoanuts,  sugar-cane  and  bananas. 
Perhaps  the  Padres  didn't  have  such  a  hard  time  after 
all!  By  1800  San  Buenaventura  had  the  largest  crops 
of  any  of  the  missions,  but  it  suffered  with  the  rest,  and 
suffered  in  the  same  old  way — practical  annihilation  of  a 
life  that  was  never  to  be  again.  During  the  "deadly  con- 
flicts" of  1838  Carrillos  forces  were  entrenched  within 
the  mission.  Cannonading  lasted  two  long  days  and  one 
man  and  a  mule  were  killed.  The  valor  of  the  besieged 
was  kept  up  only  by  mission  wine  and  gave  out  when  the 
wine  gave  out.  In  1845  it  became  a  regular  Parish  church 
and  was  renovated  out  of  all  historic  association  to  make 
way  for  the  spirit  of  smug  modernity.     Of  course,  the 


72     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

materialists  argue  that  to  the  sentimentaHst  "even  dust 
becomes  a  golden  cloud  when  seen  through  memory's 
eyes,  and  things  crude  and  common  are  glorified  by  the 
hand  of  time  and  become  sweet  and  dear  through  the 
lapse  of  years." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  HIGHWAY  CALLED  RINCON  AND  THE  BEAUTIFUL 
GARDENS  OF  SANTA  BARBARA 

Seascape,  not  landscape,  beautifies  the  thlrty-two- 
mlle  drive  between  Mission  San  Buenaventura  and  Mis- 
sion Santa  Barbara — one  of  the  dozen  famous  sea-drives 
of  CaHfornia. 

Between  thickets  of  shrub  and  under  branches  of 
live  oak,  along  the  bank  bordering  the  ocean,  once  lay 
an  Indian  trail  over  which  would  slip  sheets  of  quarrel- 
ing foam,  erasing  all  trace  of  the  original  path.  Now, 
skirting  the  sea,  is  a  macadam  boulevard,  venturesome 
enough  to  thrust  its  way,  supported  on  wooden  piles, 
right  over  the  ocean  itself,  where  the  noisy  breakers, 
tumbling  on  the  beach  beneath,  deaden  the  pulsations 
of  your  motor.  It  is  called  Rincon,  which  Spaniards 
tell  us  means  "inside  corner,"  having  an  advantage  over 
all  other  roads,  just  like  the  "inside  track"  on  a  race 
course,  and  as  far  as  sea  scenery  goes,  it  quite  justifies 
the  name. 

The  official  starting  point  of  this  road  is,  as  in  all 

73 


74     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

country  towns,  the  Post  Office — the  site  of  the  original 
postal  service,  established  in  1861,  when  the  genial  post- 
master, upon  the  arrival  of  mail  (then  not  very  heavy) 
would  safely  tuck  it  away  in  the  spacious  crown  of  his 
sombrero  and  begin  a  round  of  friendly  calls  upon  those 
for  whom  he  had  letters.  Always  welcome  and  known 
to  everyone,  the  letters  of  course  were  read  to  him,  and 
by  the  end  of  his  jaunt  he  acquired  a  splendid  budget 
of  gossip  which  later  he  could  tittle-tattle  from  house 
to  house. 

From  the  post  office  the  Rincon  runs  alongside  the 
old  mission  orchards,  where  once  were  three  hundred 
olive  trees,  parents  to  all  California  olives.  It  then 
crosses  the  flats  of  the  Ventura  River,  which  Cabrillo 
called  El  Pueblo  de  las  Canoas — the  Village  of  Canoes — 
because  of  the  large  number  of  canoes  always  moored 
there.  They  were  made  of  pine  boards  tied  together  and 
plastered  with  asphaltum  taken  from  the  very  pits  that 
later  made  Ventura  the  pioneer  in  oil  production. 

For  almost  twenty  miles  you  drive  to  an  accompani- 
ment of  "the  hammer  of  the  surf."  Dotting  the  beach 
are  little  shanties  between  which  stretch  strings  of  chillies, 
telling  the  nationality  of  their  owners.  The  purity  of 
the  atmosphere  is  so  wonderful  that  two  miles  never 
look  more  than  a  quarter  of  one — and  this,  please  under- 
stand, is  not  the  assertion  of  some  Callfornian  who  is 
always  "an  enthusiast"  with  a  predisposition  to  stretch 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  75 
the  truth,  but  that  of  an  honest  saunterer.  Then,  to 
quote  Cobb,  if  you  are  as  lucky  as  the  writer,  across 
the  blue  sky  will  be  drifting  a  hundred  fleecy  clouds, 
one  behind  the  other,  like  wooly  white  sheep  grazing  in 
the  meadows  of  the  firmament. 

Carpentaria,  the  first  town  of  size,  and  so  called  by 
the  Spanish  explorers  from  a  sort  of  carpenter  shop  where 
the  Indians  were  to  be  seen  building  canoes,  Is  noted 
for  its  once  famous  grapevine,  now  dead.  It  is  described 
as  having  been  the  largest  in  the  world,  its  trunk  measur- 
ing ten  feet  in  girth,  one  bunch  of  grapes  weighing  twelve 
pounds,  with  a  total  crop  from  the  one  vine  of  fourteen 
tons.  Being  dead,  there  Is  no  possible  way  of  disproving 
this,  so  why  not  accept  it  smilingly.'' 

Five  miles  beyond  is  Summerland,  vulgarized  into 
"Smellyland,"  the  city  of  petroleum,  where  derricks,  not 
content  to  remain  on  shore,  wander  far  out  to  sea,  pump- 
ing the  oil  from  beneath  the  ocean  bottom. 

Then  our  road  runs  through  aristocratic  Montecito 
into  the  town  of  Santa  Barbara,  where  two  miles  back 
from  the  water's  edge,  on  the  foothills  of  the  Santa  Ines 
Mountains,  stands  the  Mission. 

SANTA  BARBARA 

Painfully,  Father  Gonzales  straightens  up  from  the 
flower  bed  over  which  he  had  been  bending  for  hours, 
and  hobbles  down  to  the  unshaded  corner  of  the  court, 


76  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 
where  the  rays  of  the  blazing  sun  are  far  from  Inviting 
too  long  companionship,  but  where  there  hangs  against 
the  church  wall  a  cross-shaped  dial  with  the  inscription 
"My  time  is  in  Thy  hands,  O  God." 

A  very,  very  old  man  is  Father  Gonzales,  feeble  and 
bent  with  work.  For  nearly  fifty  years  he  has  labored 
in  the  mission  garden  and  been  in  sole  charge  there — 
every  Franciscan  has  to  choose  some  particular  life  work. 
To-day,  more  than  ever,  "touched  by  the  frost  of  age," 
he  longs  for  the  signal  that  his  day's  work  is  done,  and 
even  as  he  seeks  at  the  dial  for  the  mark  of  the  sun's 
shadow,  the  chimes  ring  out  from  the  twin  towers  above, 
telling  the  little  world  without  that  the  time  has  come 
for  rest  and  for  raising  its  heart  to  heaven. 

Soon  Father  Gonzales  is  seated  somewhat  towards  the 
sunny  end  of  a  wooden  bench,  alongside  an  ancient  crony 
with  whom  he  begins  to  reminisce  about  the  past — recall- 
ing a  life  of  long  ago  from  which  Time  has  faded  all  the 
harsher  lines  and  darker  shadows.  Around  and  around 
the  cloisters  whose  many  arches  are  outlined  by  climbing 
roses  or  tumbling  clematis,  silently  glide  the  younger 
Padres,  missal  and  rosary  in  hand,  a  white  cord  about 
their  waists,  showing  sharply  against  the  brown  garb, 
vividly  proclaiming  that  the  bodies  are  held  in  subjection 
to  the  spirit.  Still  others  wander  along  familiar  paths 
hidden    behind    adobe   walls   where   clambering   flowers 


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CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS     77 

"spill  their  musky  odor."     And  the  musical  drip  of  the 
fountain  is  the  only  sound  to  be  heard. 

It  is  a  home  of  peace,  well  beyond  tne  confines  of 
the  busy,  weary  world.  An  understanding  solitude  for 
whomsoever  comes  to  seek  its  quiet.  Hardlj  a  mood 
known  to  man  for  which  this  garden  has  not  some  solace 
or  inspiration,  though  its  full  secret  may  not  be  known 
except  to  the  chosen.  Little  wonder  that,  since  Mother 
Eve  through  her  fatal  curiosity  brought  the  curse  of 
expulsion  from  Eden,  the  Franciscans  do  not  subject 
other  women  to  similar  temptation  by  allowing  them  to 
enter.    By  Papal  authority  the  garden  is  forever  barred. 

For  fifty  years  no  hand  but  that  of  Father  Gonzales 
had  nurtured  and  cherished  the  "thousand  blossoms"  in 
this  garden  of  soul-rest.  Foreign  cacti  of  curious  shapes 
and  odd  formation  are  bed-fellows  with  gentle  stay-at- 
home  Candy-tufts,  Bac.helor  Buttons,  Snapdragons,  Lark- 
spurs, Marigolds  and  Poppies.  Palms  whose  soft  plumes 
wave  gently  with  every  breath  of  wind,  permitting  Aeolus 
to  pick  celestial  music  from  the  strings  of  their  undulat- 
ing branches,  raise  their  heads  amidst  lilies,  hyacinths, 
narcissus  and  anemones.  Travelling  ferns  whose  every 
leaf  bears  "an  autograph  of  God"  wander  at  will,  for 
the  sake  of  the  roots  upon  which  John  the  Baptist  was 
said  to  have  lived  during  his  journey  in  the  wilderness. 
Pushing  vines  penetrate  the  cracks  and  crevices  produced 


IS     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

by  the  summer-time  warping  in  the  adobe  walls.  All 
combining  to  form  a  garden  of  spiritual  repose,  of  still- 
ness, peace,  refreshment  and  delight. 

The  plants  and  flowers,  to  be  sure,  grew  and  blos- 
somed lavishly,  but  not  without  coaxing  care  and  constant 
protection  from  the  sun's  rays  and  frosts  of  the  nights; 
for  plants  and  flowers  must  be  loved  and  cared  for  each 
day,  even  though  all  cannot  be  loved  with  equal  warmth. 
While  it  is  possible  to  have  a  wholesome  liking  for  some, 
a  deep  esteem  for  others,  there  are  always,  as  Swinburne 
puts  it,  "unresponsive  flower  souls." 

This  con'stant  care,  this  charm  of  daily  companion- 
ship, the  singing  of  the  birds,  the  whizz  of  the  hummers 
in  their  retreat  beneath  the  honeysuckle,  all  conduced 
to  a  thoughtful  and  tender  disposition,  carrying  in  its 
wake  a  deep  sympathetic  insight  into  all  the  mysteries 
of  plant-life  until  at  last  Father  Gonzales  attained  the 
power  of  visualizing  human  faces,  filled  with  the  sweet- 
ness of  remembrance,  that  the  love-trained  eye  does  find 
in  pansies,  and  was  able  to  hear  the  soft  whispers  of  the 
tiny  folk  that  live  in  flower  cups.  He  even  grew  to  know 
the  appointed  moment  when  the  hare-bell  swaying  on  its 
stalk,  rings  out  its  joyful  message  and  the  exact  hour 
when  the  rose  opens  its  crimson  beauty  to  peep  for  the 
first  time  into  a  new  world.  He  became  as  the  Persians 
of  yore,  who  gather  before  a  flower  in  blossom,  spread 
their  rugs  and  pray  before  it. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS     79 

If  ever  man  caught  the  soul  of  flowers  it  was  Father 
Gonzales. 

But  the  time  came  as  It  must  come  to  all,  when  his 
garden  knew  him  no  more.  Advancing  across  the  court 
was  seen  the  Father  Superior,  arrayed  in  priestly  robes, 
with  the  burse  containing  the  golden  pyx  hanging  upon 
his  breast,  within  the  pyx  the  holy  Eucharist.  He  stops 
at  the  largest  room  facing  the  Inner  court — the  room 
of  Father  Gonzales.  Entering,  he  Incenses  In  the  form 
of  a  cross  his  dying  friend,  saying:  '^Ecce  angus  Dei.^' 
After  confessing  him,  and  with  the  holy  Eucharist  pre- 
paring him  for  passage  to  eternal  glory  and  happiness, 
he  administers  extreme  unction,  the  sacrament  for  the 
five  senses — the  eyes,  ears,  nostrils,  mouth  and  hands; 
for  the  struggle  to  be  maintained  with  the  devil  is  now 
more  formidable  than  ever,  and  a  special  endowment  of 
heaven-sent  grace  is  necessary  for  final  victory.  As  the 
soul  of  Father  Gonzales  leaves  its  mortal  home,  the 
Father  Superior  recites:  "Into  Thy  hands,  O  Lord,  I 
commend  thy  spirit.  Mother  of  Mercy  do  thou  protect 
him  from  the  enemy,  and  receive  him  at  the  hour  of  his 
death."  Dressed  in  full  ecclesiastical  costume,  he  is 
borne  to  the  church  where  he  is  placed,  head  to  the 
altar,  facing  his  people.  Then  Is  intoned  the  beautiful 
"Come  to  his  assistance  ye  Saints  of  the  God;  Come  to 
meet  him  ye  Angels  of  the  Lord." 

By  special  dispensation,  the  body  is  not  taken  to  the 


80    CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

vault  where  the  Franciscan  dead  are  generally  placed, 
lengthwise  like  books  in  a  library,  but  out  Into  the  beauti- 
ful garden  amidst  a  group  of  Madonna  lilies.  With 
lighted  candles  in  hand,  emblematic  of  the  Children  of 
Light,  the  Fathers  make  the  rounds  of  the  coffin,  asking 
the  holy  angels  to  receive  and  bear  him  heavenward. 

As  the  body  Is  lowered  into  the  ground  and  "In 
Paradisum"  is  chanted,  every  flower  within  the  garden, 
bending  on  its  stalk,  bows  its  head  In  sorrow  for  the 
beloved  comrade  lost  to  them  for  evermore.  And  tradi- 
tion asserts  that  the  following  morning  still  found  the 
flowers  in  that  same  attitude  of  mourning. 

Myth,  legend  and  superstition  are  so  woven  Into  the 
warp  of  early  secular  history  that  to  disentangle  the 
threads  of  actual  truth  is  ordinarily  difficult,  if  not 
impossible.  The  chronicler  of  ''The  Spanish  Voyagers" 
asserts  that  VIscaIno  never  realy  landed  at  Santa  Bar- 
bara, but  was  'frightened  away.  No  sooner  had  he  cast 
anchor  In  the  outer  harbor,  than  friendly  Indians  came 
out  In  their  canoes,  bidding  him  welcome,  and  when 
they  discovered  that  none  of  the  sailors  had  brought 
wives,  they  immediately  offered,  as  proof  of  their  good 
intentions  and  native  hospitality,  five  Indian  women  for 
each  sailor,  and  for  VIscaIno  ten!  Now,  whether  this 
was   not  a   sufficient  Inducement,   or  whether  It  was  a 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    81 

case  of  conscience,  the  chronicler  sayeth  not — merely 
adding:  "Viscaino  at  once  sailed  away!" 

In  seeming  contradiction,  the  diary  of  the  devout 
priest  who  compiled  maps  of  the  Viscaino  exploration 
and  was  entrusted  with  the  duty  of  naming  all  localities, 
tells  of  their  entrance  Into  the  "channel,"  on  December 
4,  1603,  the  Feast  Day  of  Santa  Barbara,  and,  as  always, 
being  moved  by  religious  sentiment  to  dedicate  each 
place  with  the  name  of  the  saint  whose  festival  occurred 
on  the  day  of  discovery,  he  headed  his  description  of  this 
site  with  the  name  "Santa  Barbara."  Though  no  direct 
reference  Is  made  to  an  actual  landing,  there  follows 
a  description  Impossible  from  long  range. 

Sacred  history  of  these  times,  however,  thanks  to 
the  unity  of  the  Church,  Is  never  at  variance,  and  all 
accounts  of  the  sainted  Barbara  agree  to  the  most  minute 
detail.  She  was  born  In  Asia,  early  in  the  Third  Century, 
endowed  with  extraordinary  beauty  and  gifted  with  sur- 
prising Intelligence.  Her  father  was  a  most  obstinate 
Idolater,  but  extremely  fond  of  his  only  child,  and  wish- 
ing to  retain  all  her  affections,  resolved  to  separate  her 
from  intercourse  with  society.  To  this  end  he  fitted  up 
apartments  In  a  very  high  tower,  where  he  placed  her 
with  a  number  of  servants,  and  gave  her  as  Instructors 
a  few  old  men  of  great  wisdom.  From  one  she  heard  of 
a  Christian  teacher  who  was  considered  the  most  learned 


82     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

of  his  age,  and  finding  means  to  communicate  with  him, 
was  instructed  in  the  mysteries  of  the  faith,  embraced 
Christianity  and  was  baptized.  She  was  then  verging 
on  her  nineteenth  year,  and  her  father  resolved  that  she 
should  leave  the  tower  and  mix  in  society,  in  the  hopes 
of  winning  her  from  her  sacrilegious  ideas.  On  entering 
her  home  she  found  it  filled  with  pagan  idols.  Full  of 
indignation,  she  asked  the  good  of  these  ridiculous  pup- 
pets. "Is  it  possible  that  a  man  of  your  education  can 
call  these  works  of  man  gods?  No,  my  dear  father,  there 
is  only  one  God."  Dio,  her  father,  enraged,  gave  her 
up  to  be  persecuted  nc  a  Christian,  but  the  judge,  finding 
she  could  not  be  induced  to  change  her  belief,  ordered 
her  beheaded,  and  her  father,  as  a  propitiation  to  his 
gods,  asked  to  be  her  executioner.  As  he  entered  the 
prison  door  he  was  struck  by  a  flash  of  fire  from  heaven. 
Barbara  nevertheless  soon  died  a  martyr  to  her  faith,  at 
the  hands  of  another. 

At  the  Church  of  All  Saints,  in  Rome,  you  may  still 
be  shown  the  head  of  Saint  Barbara,  and  if  not  too  miserly 
you  will  be  told  the  story  of  her  executioner;  how  he 
demanded  as  payment  the  privilege  to  look  upon  the 
extraordinary  beauty  of  her  body.  But  as  he  was  un- 
winding the  last  covering,  a  thick  cloud  enveloped  her, 
hiding  her  from  sight,  and  when  it  faded  away,  the  man 
was  found  dead  beside  her  bier. 

Most   fittingly,    December   4th — the    Feast   Day   of 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    83 

Santa  Barbara — was  chosen  for  the  foundation  of  the 
Mission.  This  was  in  1786 — one  hundred  and  eighty- 
three  years  after  Its  discovery  by  VIscalno.  In  good 
time  a  beautiful  church  and  a  long  square  of  low  build- 
ings, with  arched  corridors  arose  on  the  heights  back  of 
the  town,  facing  the  sea,  so  that  the  morning's  first  rays 
would  flash  full  upon  the  facade,  while  at  even-time  they 
would  linger  late  on  the  western  walls — a  heavenly  bene- 
diction. 

The  Indians,  as  Viscaino  had  earlier  discovered,  were 
extremely  friendly  and  gathered  about  the  mission  in 
great  numbers,  accepting  the  teaching  of  the  Padres — 
in  such  numbers  that  it  became  necessary  to  enlarge 
the  church  in  1793,  which,  damaged  :n  el  ano  temblore, 
was  rebuilt  during  1815 — ^just  as  it  stands  to-day.  The 
same  general  plan  of  construction  Wc^is  followed  as  at  all 
the  other  missions,  the  only  distinctive  feature  being 
the  twin  towers — not  found  elsewhere.  Here  the  living 
rooms  of  the  Padres  all  face  the  inner  garden,  closing  it 
to  womankind,  though  some  years  ago  two  of  them,  by 
invoking  the  mediaeval  Spanish  law  which  declared  no 
law  was  valid  for  those  of  royal  blood,  did  gain  admittance 
and  satisfied  their  vanity.  In  front  of  the  mission  the 
ancient  fountain  continues  to  spout  forth  its  refreshing 
stream,  though  its  once  delicate  tracery  has  almost  dis- 
appeared, rubbed  away  by  the  constant  friction  of  the 
water  line.     Just  below  is  the  old  stone  washing  tank 


84    CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

that  became  the  "Exchange  Place"  of  gossip,  bandied 
to  and  from  between  the  rubbing  and  scrubbing  of  wash- 
ing day. 

The  little  cemetery,  according  to  the  records,  con- 
tains thousands  of  graves  dug  one  on  top  of  the  other, 
all  happily  covered  to-day  by  a  charitable  blanket  of 
roses  and  trailing  vines,  though  marring  the  picture  is 
a  crumbling  vault  still  in  use,  where  the  dead  Padres 
are  placed  like  books  on  a  shelf,  with  niches  already 
prepared,  even  to  the  name  and  Inscription,  for  the 
living.  There  you  can  read  the  continued  story  of  a 
devoted  band  which  never  surrendered.  Secularization 
they  refused  to  accept;  expelled,  they  refused  to  obey. 
Alone,  of  all  the  California  missionaries,  they  clung  to 
their  post.  With  tonsured  head,  sandaled  and  girdled, 
they  still  live  as  they  lived  of  old,  and  with  a  beautiful 
faith  they  keep  tolling  the  Angelus,  hoping  for  the  day 
when  the  busy  world  will  stop  and  raise  its  heart  to  God. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

TELLING   OF   THE    JOURNEY   TO    SANTA   INES 
AND    WHAT   ONE    FINDS   THERE 

One  of  August's  scorching  winds  sweeps  the  city — 
Nature's  house-cleaning,  and,  like  other  house-cleanings, 
somewhat  disagreeable  in  the  process.  But  the  sparkling 
atmosphere,  unclouded  sky  and  brilliant  sun  dispose  the 
ordinarily  healthy  man — and  woman — to  submerge  all 
present  inconvenience  in  pleasurable  anticipation. 

The  road  strikes  towards  the  hills,  and  if  you  look 
up  to  the  heights  with  the  eyes  of  faith,  you  may  see  the 
Mountain  Maid.  As  the  legend  runs:  Back  in  pastoral 
times  the  valley  suffered  from  a  prolonged  drought,  so 
severe  that  the  Mission  Fathers  set  a  week  of  prayer, 
asking  relief  of  their  patron  saint.  One  night  a  heavy 
rain  refreshed  the  valley,  and  in  the  morning,  looking 
out  upon  the  foothills,  the  Padres  discovered  a  likeness 
of  St.  Barbara.  The  rain  in  washing  away  the  face  of 
the  rock  had  etched  the  portrait  of  the  Mountain  Maid. 
The  face  of  the  rock  has  certainly  been  denuded  of  its 
covering  of  chaparral  and  almost  any  time  between  four 

85 


86     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

in  the  afternoon  and  sunset  may  be  seen  the  figure  of 
a  woman,  the  lower  part  of  her  draperies  lost  in  the  mist. 
Slipped  about  her  shoulders  is  the  white  cape  of  the 
sisterhood,  with  broad  band  across  her  brow  In  one 
hand  she  holds  a  cornucopia  from  which  flowers  appear 
to  be  showering  upon  the  valley,  a  reminder  that  "help 
Cometh  from  the  hills." 

For  many  years  thereafter  came  rain  a-plenty,  a.nd 
the  road  even  now  skirts  the  huge  reservoir  built  by  the 
Padres  at  that  time,  so  well  constructed  that  it  is  used 
to-day  to  supply  the  city  of  Santa  Barbara. 

Much  like  a  private  park  is  the  seven  miles  between 
Goleta  and  Santa  Barbara.  The  way  bordered  on  both 
sides  with  luxuriant  trees,  bowing  so  obsequiously  one  to 
the  other  that  their  heads,  touching,  form  an  arch  which 
completely  veils  the  Saunterers  from  the  heat  of  the  sun. 
Through  the  heavy  branches  one  can  dimly  see  velvety 
oak-studded  meadows,  and  in.  the  foothill  background 
rambling  bungalows,  the  homes  of  lovers  of  wide  fields 
and  big  open  spaces.  The  village  of  Goleta  is  nothing 
but  a  telephone  booth,  a  tumbledown  blacksmith  shop 
and  a  corner  grocery,  but  to  the  Saunterers  it  is  another 
station  on  the  road  of  experience,  and  all  things  must  be 
experienced  to  be  truly  understood. 

Three  roads  go  to  Santa  Ines,  by  as  many  passes — 
San  Marcus,  Refugio  and  Gavioto — and  here  at  Goleta 
is  the  entrance  to  the  beautiful  San  Marcus  pass.    Which 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    87 

of  the  three  roads  was  the  chosen  route  of  the  early- 
Padres  is  irtiposslble  to  state  with  deiiniteness.  The 
builders  of  El  Camino  Real  claim  Gavioto,  basing  their 
claim  upon  Father  Crespi's  diary,  written  during  the 
expedition  in  search  of  Monterey  under  Don  Gasper  de 
Portola  in  1769,  in  which  mention  is  made  of  a  pass 
called  Gavioto,  in  commemoration  of  the  wonderful 
marksmanship  of  one  of  the  soldier-guards,  who  while 
climbing  the  pass  fired  off  his  old  flintlock  musket  and, 
apparently  to  the  amazement  of  the  chronicler,  actually 
killed  a  gull  (gavioto). 

Tradition,  however,  leans  strongly  to  San  Marcus 
pass  which,  despite  a  multitude  of  corners,  sometimes 
dangerous  for  the  modern  motor,  offers  no  difficulties  to 
the  burro  or  the  man  on  foot.  Whether  the  necessary 
climb  of  2,500  feet  offsets  the  shorter  distance  is  a  matter 
for  argument,  though  there  can  be  no  argument  but  that 
the  magnificent  scenery  and  far-reaching  panoramas 
justify  the  climb.  However,  it  is  Gavioto  for  the  Saun- 
terers,  and  the  road  keeps  to  the  level  and  heads  for  the 
ocean  where,  as  it  approaches  Naples,  a  church  of  yellow- 
ish stone,  perched  on  a  hilltop  by  the  sea,  looms  into 
view,  as  unlike  Italy's  churches  as  this  American  Naples 
is  unlike  the  Queen  City  of  the  Mediterranean.  It  stands 
there  solitary  and  deserted,  not  a  house  in  sight,  sym- 
bolizing the  ever-present  vanity  of  man.  It  might  be 
termed  an  Irish  Bull,  for  it  was  built  by  the  first  Irish- 


88     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

man  who  landed  in  California,  characteristically  listed  on 
the  local  records  as  "An  Englishman,  native  of  Ireland, 
whose  parents  live  in  Boston." 

For  miles  one  follows  every  undulation  of  the  shore, 
running  between  the  deep  blue  ocean  and  the  green  foot- 
hills of  the  Santa  Ines  mountains,  a  quiet,  dreamy 
country,  so  fairylike  in  its  unreality  that  it  starts  bub- 
bling within  the  man  an  absurd  sentimental  fervor — a 
quality,  fortunately,  according  to  Mencken,  non-existent 
in  women. 

Perhaps  five  miles  beyond  is  the  Rancho  de  Nuestra 
Senora  del  Refugio — the  refuge  in  olden  days  for  many 
a  smuggling  adventurer.  Here  zigzagging  up  the  moun- 
tain flank  is  the  trail  over  Refugio  pass,  crawling  in  and 
out  among  foothills  and  finally  scaling  the  rocky  heights, 
Santa  Ines  peak  being  close  to  five  thousand  feet  high. 
But  the  Gavioto  road  still  follows  the  ocean  through 
many  acres  of  olive  trees  and  amidst  great  groves  of 
eucalyptus  whose  trunks  show  not  a  vestige  of  bark, 
whitened  by  the  hand  of  age.  They  are  said  to  be  the 
oldest  trees  of  the  kind  in  California. 

Nearing  Gavioto,  the  foothills  creep  down  to  the 
water's  edge,  elbowing  the  road  away  from  the  ocean 
front,  forcing  it  to  turn  almost  at  right  angles  into  a 
winding,  high-walled,  romantic  pass — if  one's  eyes  are 
to  be  believed,  the  retreat  for  many  a  philandering 
motorist. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    89 

Something  of  an  effort  to  turn  from  this  broad, 
smooth  boulevard  into  the  dusty  trail  lost  to  view  amid 
scrubby  hills,  but  this  way  leads  to  the  mission,  and  on 
the  edge  of  the  solitary  plain,  away  from  the  railroads 
and  the  hum  of  cities,  stands  a  lasting  monument  to 
Saint  Agnes. . 

SANTA   INES 

One  late  afternoon,  in  the  spring  of  1824,  Father 
Peblos  and,  his  Indian  pupil,  Jesu,  were  seated  in  the 
guest  room  of  the  Mission  Santa  Ines,  absorbed  in  study. 

Though  seated  and  leaning  well  over  his  book  of 
vellum,  it  was  still  easy  to  see  that  Jesu  was  of  unusual 
height,  even,  for  an  Indian",  and  endowed  to  an  extra- 
ordinary degree  with  all  the  best  physical  traits  of  his 
stalwart  race.  A  gentleness  of  manner  and  a  natural 
sweetness  of  disposition,  so  often  to  be  seen  In  physically 
big  men,  had  so  endeared  him  to  Father  Peblos  that  the 
good  padre  gladly  spared  from  his  well-filled  day  an  hour 
o^  two  of  instruction,  teaching  Jesu  in  the  subjects  that 
might  best  fit  him  to  become  a  leader  and  a  guide  among 
his  own  people. 

Years  had  passed  since  Jesu  as  a  boy  had  timidly 
entered  this  room,  now  more  homelike  than  the  home  of 
his  earthly  parents.  The  floor  Is  still  covered  with  dull 
red  tile,  the  walls  are  still  painted  in  raw  umber  and 
hung  with  pictures  of  the  saints,  the  ceiling  studded  with 


90     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

rough-hewn  beams  held  in  place  by  thongs  of  hide.  The 
windows,  on  one  side,  open  into  a  cloistered  court  always 
filled  with  flowers  and  fruit  trees;  on  the  other  side  they 
face  a  large  enclosure  of  brick,  which  is  the  theater  of 
a  battling,  laughing,  scolding  throng  on  every  wash-day. 
This  was  home  never  to  be  forgotten,  never  to  be  left. 
How  little  does  one  know  what  the  future  holds  in  store! 

In  an  adjoining  room  the  musicians,  attached  to  the 
choir,  were  practising.  The  violin,  guitar,  flute  and 
bass-viol  blended  in  a  plaintive  note — rather  Hawaiian — 
not  sufhciently  loud  to  prevent  study,  but  nevertheless 
drowning  all  outside  noises,  and  both  Father  Peblos  and 
Jesu  looked  up  in  surprise  when  a  company  of  soldiers 
appeared  at  the  doorway.  As  soon  as  the  sergeant  had 
detached  himself  from  his  troops  he  was  seen  to  be 
carrying  something  wound  in  cloth  which,  undoing,  he 
cast  upon  the  floor,  where  it  struck  with  sickening  thud, 
rolling  close  to  the  feet  of  Jesu. 

Seeking  some  runaway  neophytes,  the  soldiers  had 
traced  them  to  a  distant  rancheria,  whose  owner  chief, 
upon  refusal  to  give  them  up,  was  killed  and  his  head 
cut  off  in  true  Conquistadore  fashion.  It  was  this  head 
that  the  sergeant  threw  upon  the  floor — and  it  was  the 
head  of  the  father  of  Jesu. 

As  horror-stricken  Jesu  stared  at  the  bloody  object 
that  seemed  almost  to  cling  to  him  for  protection,  his 
veneer  of  civilization  dropped  away  as  a  garment  that 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    91 

had  come  untied.  The  once  gentle,  sad  eyes  grew  bitter 
with  hate  and  desire  for  revenge.  In  one  moment  the 
labor  of  years  was  undone.  The  educated  Indian  lapsed 
into  savagery,  mentally  donning  his  war  paint  and  plan- 
ning that  rebellion  which  came  so  near  to  wrecking  the 
Mission  Purisima,  as  well  as  Santa  Ines. 

But  without  a  word  Jesu  left  the  room. 

So  it  was  that  scarcely  six  weeks  later  Jesu  at  the 
head  of  a  yelling  mob  of  more  than  a  thousand  savages 
surrounded  the  mission  and  laid  seige  to  the  cloisters 
in  which  were  imprisoned  the  priests  and  that  handful 
of  Indians  who  still  remained  faithful,  Jesu  having  lured 
most  of  the  neophytes  away  by  turning  agsinst  the 
priests  the  very  mental  weapons  forged  for  him  by 
Father  Peblos  during  the  many  months  of  loving  labor 
and  study.  He  played  upon  the  neophytes'  fears  and 
superstitions,  just  as  the  priests  themselves  were  accus- 
tomed to  do,  reporting  to  his  fellow-Christians  that  he 
had  a  dream  in  which  Chupu  (the  Indian  deity)  had 
appeared,  warning  him  that  all  who  had  been  baptized 
would  die  before  the  new  moon,  unless  they  renounced 
Christianity.  Most  of  them  fled  secretly  from  the  mis- 
sion, bringing  to  Jesu  beads  and  other  votive  offerings 
and  swearing  allegiance  to  his  cause.  Soon  after,  by 
his  eloquence,  Jesu  wrought  the  hill  tribes  into  a  fury 
of  resentment.  In  full  panoply  of  paint  and  feathers 
they  gathered  about  the  camp  fires,  when  Jesu,  seizing 


92     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

upon  the  war  club,  smeared  with  vermilion  to  symbolize 
blood,  sang  his  war  song: 

"Hear  my  voice,  ye  warlike  birds, 
I  wish  the  vengeance  of  your  claws." 

One  by  one  the  assembled  braves  joined  in  the  dance, 
slowly  circling  about  the  fires,  imitating  in  gesture  and 
movement  the  wild  beasts  and  birds — this  was  their 
pledge  to  battle. 

The  Indians  depended  for  success  entirely  upon  force 
of  numbers,  while  the  hope  of  the  little  garrison  defend- 
ing the  mission  lay  in  the  superstition  and  fear  of  fire- 
arms, though,  conforming  to  Franciscan  custom,  both 
carbine  and  cannon  were  always  fired  without  shot  or 
shell.  Jesu,  knowing  that  it  was  against  the  priests' 
habit  to  take  life  even  in  battle,  called  together  the 
medicine  men,  who  had  long  hated  the  priests  as  the 
cause  of  their  loss  of  power  and  influence.  These  Sha- 
man,'^wearing  their  most  powerful  fetish — necklaces  of 
human  fingers — seated  themselves  in  the  form  of  a  circle; 
in  the  center,  with  war  pipe  in  hand,  was  Jesu,  who,  in 
half-strangled  gutturals,  voiced  his  song  of  hate.  The 
reed  flute  wailed  its  plaintive  note,  and  one  of  the  medi- 
cine men  jumped  into  the  ring,  singing  in  time  to  the 
tap  of  a  drum;  leaping  about,  first  on  one  foot  and  then 
on  the  other,  brandishing  his  fists  in  the  face  of  his 
fellows,  still  seated,  finally  grasping  one  of  them  by  the 
hand  he  jerked  him  forcibly  to  his  feet;  he  in  turn  clutched 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    93 

another,  the  third  a  fourth,  until  all  were  on  their  feet, 
yelling  and  gesticulating,  casting  spells  upon  the  white 
man's  guns,  rendering  them  harmless,  and  with  their 
magic  driving  death  from  the  battlefield. 

Later,  when  the  guns  and  canon  were  fired,  without 
injury  to  anyone,  the  Indians  were  confirmed  in  the 
power  of  their  medicine  men,  and  those  who  had  sur- 
rounded the  mission  and  were  creeping  and  wriggling 
through  the  grass  in  a  continually  decreasing  circle,  freed 
from  all  bodily  fear,  rose  and  rushed  the  convento  and 
church,  setting  them  both  on  fire. 

One  of  the  priests,  a  burly,  powerful  friar,  sandaled, 
and  clad  In  gown,  girthed  with  the  cord  of  St.  Francis, 
realizing  that  the  time  for  decisive  action  had  come, 
seized  a  gun  and  rushed  to  the  window. 

"Well,  Father,"  Ironically  yelled  Jesu,  "Is  that  the 
way  you  say  Mass.^"' 

"Yes,  my  son;  here  is  the  chalice,"  pointing  to  the 
cartridge  box,  "and  here  is  the  crucifix,"  holding  up  his 
carbine,  "and  here  goes  my  benediction,"  pointing  the 
weapon,  as  he  spoke,  full  at  Jesu  and  pulling  the  trigger. 

As  the  smoke  drifted  away  and  the  Indians  saw  their 
leader  dead  upon  the  ground,  the  old  fear  and  supersti- 
tion in  the  mysterious  power  of  gunpowder  revived,  and 
down  they  threw  their  weapons  In  submission,  just  In 
time  to  prevent  a  complete  destruction;  for  the  flames 
had  eaten  Into  the  church  almost  to  the  sacristy,  where 


94     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

the  holy  Eucharist  was  kept,  and  only  by  the  help  of  the 
Indians,  who,  fearing  a  retributive  miracle  and  became 
frightened,  were  the  flames  extinguished. 

The  marks  of  these  fingers  of  fire  are  still  visible  on 
the  sacristy  walls. 

What  an  inspiring  sight  it  must  have  been,  that 
strange  procession  in  middle  September,  in  the  year 
1804,  wending  its  way  over  the  rough  road,  hardly  more 
than  a  trail.  At  its  head  strode  one  of  the  oldest  neo- 
phytes, bearing  the  processional  cross  mounted  on  a  long 
staff;  then  two  others  with  banners  painted  with  like- 
nesses of  St.  Agnes,  followed  by  the  rest  of  the  neophytes 
with  candles  in  hand,  after  whom  came  the  attendant 
priest,  next  Commandant  Carrillo,  and  last  of  all  Presi- 
dente  Tapis.  In  sacred  processions  the  head  of  the 
church  is  always  last;  the  next  highest  in  dignity  just 
before  him,  and  those  lowest  going  first.  It  is  emblematic 
of  the  Christian  journey — "that  the  last  shall  be  first.'' 

After  an  all-day  climb,  the  hardships  lightened  by  a 
frequent  singing  of  the  Gloria  Laus,  they  arrived  at  the 
spot  selected  by  Governor  Borica  many  months  before 
when  on  an  exploring  expedition  among  these  mountains. 
With  a  zeal  that  never  flagged.  Governor  Borica  was 
always  founding,  on  paper,  pueblos  and  missions  in  honor 
of  his  sovereigns;  and,  being  a  man  of  great  piety,  was 
generally  upheld  by  the  church  authorities. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    95 

It  was  on  September  17,  1808,  that  this  Mission  was 
formally  founded  and  dedicated  to  St.  Agnes — Santa 
Ines,  martir  y  virgen,  is  held  in  the  highest  honor  by  the 
primitive  church,  who  constantly  sing  her  praises  and 
extol  her  heroism  under  torture.  After  the  promulgation 
of  the  imperial  edict  against  Christians,  Agnes  volun- 
tarily declared  herself  one  and  suffered  most  steadfastly 
the  martyrdom  of  fire,  giving  scarcely  a  thought,  how- 
ever, to  the  frightful  torture  she  had  to  endure,  con- 
cerning herself  only  with  the  unveiling  of  her  body. 
One  young  man  who  dared  a  lascivious  glance  fell  to 
the  ground,  stricken  blind.  Her  monument,  with  a 
lamb,  the  symbol  of  innocence,  stands  on  the  Via  Nomen- 
tane  in  Rome. 

Aside  from  the  brief  Indian  rebellion,  the  history  of 
this  mission  has  been  comparatively  uneventful.  The 
earthquakes  of  el  ano  de  los  temblores,  as  everywhere, 
caused  a  partial  collapse  here,  making  extensive  repairs 
necessary;  and,  in  the  rebuilding,  three  windows  were 
opened  in  the  bell-tower,  follo.wing  the  example  set  by 
St.  Barbara  who,  in  her  tower-home,  insisted  upon  three 
windows  as  only  through  the  Trinity  could  the  soul 
receive  light. 

Secularization  pounced  down  on  this  particular  mis- 
sion, in  1836,  upon  a  somewhat  unusual  excuse.  Governor 
Chico,  the  most  petty,  tyrannical  and  quarrelsome  of 
California's  governors,  knowing  that  It  was  the  custom 


96     CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

to  announce  the  arrival  of  visiting  priests  by  the  joyful 
ringing  of  church  bells,  was  Incensed  on  one  of  his  annual 
rounds  to  be  received  In  dead  silence,  and  he  reported 
this  lese  majesty  to  the  State  Assembly,  who  Immediately 
ordered  secularization  as  the  only  proper  punishment. 
From  such  little  vanities  do  great  deeds  spring.  It  was 
little  else  than  a  ruin  that  was  handed  back  to  the 
Church  authorities  in  1843,  and  the  succeeding  years  of 
abandonment  completed  the  devastating  work  of  man. 

Then  there  appeared  upon  the  scene  a  priest  blessed 
with  the  sacrificing,  enduring  spirit  of  the  old  Padres — 
a  man  with  such  a  beautiful  childish  faith  that  It  trans- 
formed God  Into  human  form  and  made  of  him  an  ever- 
present  friend  to  whom  he  might  turn  for  guidance  In 
the  slightest  difficulty.  Every  morning  at  sunrise  he 
would  open  the  door  that  faced  to  the  east,  and  just  as 
though  hailing  a  comrade  In  the  next  field,  might  be 
heard  to  say: 

"Good  morning,  God;  everything  well  this  morning.?" 
So  with  God  as  his  only  companion  he  started  on 
the  very  day  of  his  arrival  to  explore  the  tumble-down 
ruins  of  Santa  Ines.  Not  a  habitable  room  was  to  be 
found  in  the  entire  mission,  except  for  such  occupants 
as  scorpions,  tarantulas  and  poisonous  spiders.  He  tells — 
and  Father  Buckler,  unlike  the  Incommunicative  Fran- 
ciscan monks,  loves  to  talk — how  his  bed-fellow  on  that 
first  night  was  a  six-foot  snake.  To-day  that  particular 
snake,  with  many  a  scorpion  and  tarantula,  are  on  view 


'^V*-*^! 


ife*.- 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS    97 

in  his  room  of  exhibition  where,  with  reverent  care,  have 
been  collected  all  sorts  of  relics  dug  from  out  the  wreck- 
age, even  to  hand-wrought  nails,  hinges  and  other  metal 
odds  and  ends.  It  took  many  a  month  just  to  clean 
away  the  debris — months  of  discouragement  at  the  little 
progress  made  with  one  pair  of  hands.  Then,  one  night, 
there  came  a  knock  at  his  door  and  he  opened  it  to  a 
tramp  begging  for  a  night's  lodging.  He  had  found 
another  pair  of  hands  and  knew  now  where  to  find  still 
others.  In  the  years  that  followed,  every  hobo  for  miles 
around  who  applied  for  help  was  directed  to  Father 
Buckler.  In  his  diary  of  vagabondia  he  keeps  a  record 
of  each  of  these  wanderers.  Their  names,  when  they 
give  them,  though  most  frequently  the  diary  reads: 
"Rambling  Willie,"  'XhiU-Blanes,"  "Travelling  Tank," 
"Hand-out  Harry,"  or  "Bean-Booster,"  and,  according 
to  this  diary,  two  hundred  came  to  the  mission  in  one 
year,  many  of  them  skillful  mechanics,  guttered  by 
drink.  Alone,  except  for  their  help,  he  has  straightened 
the  cracked  and  crumbling  walls,  roofed  the  church  and 
convento,  and  transformed  a  ruin  into  a  sweet,  livable 
mission.; 

When  there  were  no  funds  to  draw  upon,  Father 
Buckler  would  invariably  turn  to  God — "buttonhole 
God"  is  his  expression: 

"I  need  money  to-day,  God,"  he  would  say  in  an 
ordinary  conversational  tone;  "you'll  have  to  supply  it." 

He  always  got  it,  so  he  said,  but,  with  a  humorous 


98    CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

touch  added,  "only  a  third  of  what  I  asked  for.    Wonder 
if  it'll  do  any  good  to  ask  for  three  times  what  I  need!" 

This  saving  sense  of  humor  is  forever  bubbling  to  the 
fore.    Note  the  sign  on  the  mission  grounds: 

"To  be  permitted  to  view  the  interior  of  this  mission 
is  an  act  of  courtesy  by  the  mission  authorities.  Don't 
imagine  we  have  to  do  so.  There  are  no  specific  charges. 
Visitors,  however,  should  remember  that  our  time  is  as 
valuable  as  theirs,  and  consequently  it  is  an  impossibility 
to  expect  to  be  admitted  and  escorted  around  without 
some  donation,  which  should  never  be  less  than  twenty- 
five  cents." 

Now  and  again  humor  gives  way  to  beautiful  religious 
sentiment.    On  the  door  of  the  guest  room  we  read: 

"Guest,  at  thy  knocking,  my  doors  open  to  thee; 

So  do  thou  open  to  God  knocking  at  thy  heart." 

Sometimes  there  enters  a  pathetic  note.  The  church 
bells  bear  the  warning: 

"One  of  these  will  be  Thine," 
in  allusion  to  the  Catholic  custom  of  tolling  church  bells 
on  the  death  of  every  parishioner. 

Should  you  happily  see  Father  Buckler  as  the  setting 
sun  glorifies  his  poor  shabby  library,  seated  before  the 
organ,  his  fingers  dreamily  running  over  the  keyboard, 
you  will  recognize  the  kindly  soul  that  has  stamped  these 
lifeless  walls  of  brick  and  mortar  with  a  living  sweetness 
that  will  endure  as  long  as  the  buildings  stand. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  DETOUR  TO  PURISIMA  AND  THE  FABLE  OF  THE 
MIRACULOUS  HOUSE 

Experience,  wisest  of  all  teachers,  turns  the  Saun- 
terers  on  to  a  quiet  country  road  that  stretches  along  the 
foot  of  the  mountains  and  leads  into  the  shabby  little 
town  of  Los  Olivos,  the  home  of  an  old-fashioned  inn, 
hiding  Its  many  virtues  behind  a  vine-covered  veranda. 

Some  memories  are  like  oases  In  a  vast  desert  of  for- 
getfulness,  and  this  homely  trout-fishing  resort,  away 
from  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  world,  seen  for  the 
first  time  as  evening's  purple  shadows  gather  at  twilight, 
is  the  fountain  source  of  endless  reminiscing. 

A  short  distance  away  lies  our  old  friend,  El  Camino 
Real,  playing  hide  and  seek  with  the  Coast  Railway — 
jumping  the  track  back  and  forth — finally  romping  over 
a  rolling  country  of  "dumpling"  hills  that  are  garnished 
with  bright  splashes  of  green — mighty  oaks  dwarfed  by 
distance.  The  valley,  to  be  sure.  Is  called  Los  Alamos, 
meaning  poplars,  but  an  oak  by  any  other  name  looks  as 
well. 

99 


100  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

The  tiny  hamlet  of  Harris  marks  the  entrance  to  the 
Purisima  canyon,  the  direct  route  to  the  Mission  La 
Purisima  and  the  Mission  Santa  Ines.  Just  why  the 
King's  Highway,  supposedly  the  old  mission  road,  skips 
these  two  missions  is  a  question  for  the  grafters  and 
political  pets  to  answer,  and  perhaps  they  won't  tell. 

But  from  Santa  Ines  to  La  Purisima  the  entire  twenty- 
four  miles  is  hemmed  in  by  the  Santa  Rosa  and  Santa 
Rita  Hills,  "full-bosomed  and  maternal — mothering  the 
valley"  lying  between  and  nursing  into  flower  life  its 
thousand  acres,  blanketing  them  with  a  covering  of  sweet- 
peas  that  upon  maturity  seed  the  less  favored  of  other 
lands;  for  here,  beautifully  situated  on  the  bank  of  the 
little  Ines  River  with  hills  all  about,  except  on  the  west 
where  the  land  slopes  to  the  ocean,  are  the  famous  flower- 
seed  farms.  This  is  Lompoc,  which  is  an  Indian  word  for 
shell  mounds — huge  accumulations  of  sea  shells,  the  only 
sign  left  to  mark  the  place  of  the  early  abodes  of  the 
Indians  who  dearly  loved  sea  food  and  left  the  remnants 
of  their  feasts  to  fertilize  the  soil  to  an  exceeding  richness. 

The  city  of  Lompoc  was  founded  as  a  temperance 
colony,  at  a  time  when  prohibition  was  fanaticism  rather 
than  fashionable  and  resultantly  never  drew  the  crowds, 
though  it  made  heroic  efforts  to  non-alcoholically  warm 
the  stomach  of  the  world  with  the  fire  of  mustard,  grown 
in  the  only  seed-mustard  farms  in  the  United  States, 
which    "like    streaks   of   sunshine   playing   hooky   from 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  101 

heaven"  slash  the  valley  with  golden  yellow. 

Materialism  now  reigns  in  the  old  home  of  the  Mission 
La  Purisima. 

It  is  quite  as  difficult  to  imagine  why  the  Mission  of 
the  Immaculate  Conception — La  Mision  de  la  Purisima 
Concepcion  de  la  Santisima  Maria  Madre  de  Dios  y 
Nuestra  Senora — was  founded  on  December  8,  1787,  just 
at  the  beginning  of  the  rainy  season  when  storms  usually 
make  it  impossible  to  construct  permanent  buildings,  as 
it  is  to  accept  the  absurd  theory  that  the  Padres  wished 
to  show  the  natives  the  superiority  of  their  new  brand  of 
witchcraft.  More  difficult  to  understand  this  winter- 
haste,  as  more  than  two  years  had  been  allowed  to  elapse 
since  the  authorities  chose  the  inviting  site  on  the  bank 
of  the  Santa  Ines  River,  where  wide  spreading  plains, 
easy  of  irrigation,  and  a  natural  protection  in  the  rugged 
timbered  hills  rising  in  the  rear  made  it  one  of  the  garden 
spots  of  this  old  earth. 

The  Padres  recognized  that  in  converting  the  soul  to 
Christianity  they  must  convert  the  body  as  well,  and 
always  had  a  keen  eye  for  good  soil  and  water.  They 
knew  that  continuously  spouting  fountains  amidst  fruit- 
laden  trees  would  give  the  Indians  a  more  exalted  idea 
of  civilization  than  any  sermon  they  could  possibly 
preach,  and  that  ample  stores  of  grain  and  meat  would 
speak  more  loudly  than  they  against  hill  freedom  and 


102  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

frequent  starvation,  and  with  carnal  lure  would  finally 
bring  the  savages  under  the  cloak  of  the  church. 

Be  all  this  as  It  may,  the  rains  fell  and  the  winds  blew 
so  persistently  that  It  was  a  good  four  months  before  con- 
struction work  could  even  be  started,  and  misfortune 
seemed  to  dog  the  mission  from  the  very  start;  fire,  flood 
and  drought,  scourges  of  grasshoppers  and  gophers,  war 
and  epidemics  are  graven  deep  on  Its  annals.  In  signs  of 
suffering.  But  the  Padres  believed  with  Job  "that  God 
would  deliver  them  from  death,  and  In  war,  from  the 
power  of  the  sword."  Strangely  enough,  one  of  these 
very  scourges,  a  trial  even  to  this  day,  was  the  direct 
outcome  of  the  padres'  civilizing  influence;  as  before  their 
day  gophers  were  an  Indian  tid-bit,  and  constant  daily 
indulgence  In  this  choice  dainty  more  than  kept  pace 
with  Nature's  multiplication  table,  allowing  the  animals 
no  chance  for  dangerous  increase. 

Fire  twice  destroyed  the  mission  buildings,  forcing  the 
padres  to  erect  temporary  native  huts  by  planting  long 
poles  in  the  ground  and  plastering  the  tops  together,  the 
sides  being  interwoven  with  weeds  and  covered  with 
adobe.  The  droughts  were  so  severe  that  large  herds  of 
cattle  had  to  be  driven  from  the  plains  into  the  sea  as  the 
most  merciful  and  speedy  death.  Smallpox  ravaged  the 
little  settlement,  and  floods  destroyed  the  crops. 

Then  one  day  the  earth  trembled,  the  sea  receded  and 
the  natives  in  great  alarm  rushed  to  the  mission,  where 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  103 

the  padres  met  them,  endeavoring  to  calm  their  fears  by 
chanting  the  Litany  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  but  in  rapid 
succession  shock  followed  shock  with  increasing  violence, 
until  the  mission  walls  cracked  and  down  rattled  the 
rafters  and  the  stones.  In  panic  the  Indians  sluffed  off 
their  conversion  robes,  lapsing  back  into  old  idolatrous 
practices.  They  prostrated  themselves,  turning  to  the 
four  points  of  the  compass  and  called  upon  their  god  of 
earthquakes  for  protection,  but  finding  even  him  helpless 
and  seized  with  senseless  panic,  they  fled.  The  learned 
Father  Payeras  who,  with  the  aid  of  interpreters,  had 
made  in  native  idiom  a  complete  catechism  and  manual 
of  confession,  claimed  that  to  the  very  last  there  was 
always  this  curious  mixture  of  paganism  and  Christianity. 
Believing  that  the  earthquake  was  their  angry  deity's 
expression  of  displeasure,  the  neophytes  of  Purisima  joined 
with  the  tribes  of  Santa  Ines  and  Santa  Barbara  in  rebel-^ 
Hon  against  the  Padres.  In  attacking  the  mission  they 
all  covered  themselves  with  twigs  so  as  to  look  like  bushes 
and  were  able  to  approach  near  enough  without  dis- 
covery, to  send  blazing  arrows  into  the  thatched  roofs 
and  set  them  on  fire.  In  the  resultant  confusion,  by  force 
of  numbers  they  managed  to  seize  the  cloistered  buildings. 
Once  inside  they  cut  holes  in  the  adobe  walls  through 
which  to  sling  their  spears.  They  erected  palisade  for- 
tifications and  dragged  out  of  hiding  a  couple  of  rusty 
cannon  commonly  used  to  make  a  noise  on  the  Dias  de 


104  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

Fiesta — really  useless  except  to  excite  terror  and  called 
by  the  superstitious  "creators  of  thunder."  Then  they 
planted  in  the  ground  all  the  available  gunpowder,  in 
hopes  that  it  would  yield  a  further  supply,  for  so  miracu- 
lous did  these  mysterious  black  grains  appear  to  the 
native  mind  that  they  believed  it  must  possess  the  power 
of  reproduction.  Everything,  in  fact,  was  done  that 
native  ingenuity  could  devise  in  expectation  of  an  attack, 
but  with  only  bows,  spears  and  machetes  they  were  no 
match  for  the  soldiers  who,  one  hundred  strong,  were  soon 
sent  to  put  down  the  revolt. 

Many  natives  were  killed  in  the  fight  that  followed, 
some  were  subsequently  executed,  for  the  sake  of  example, 
and  still  others  were  sent  into  long  imprisonment,  and  this, 
despite  all  the  pleadings  of  Father  Payeras,  who,  though 
captured  when  the  garrison  capitulated,  was  in  no  wise 
molested,  but  on  the  contrary,  treated  with  every  mark 
of  respect.  Irreverence  for  him  would  have  been  an 
impiety  and  a  sacrilege,  there  having  been  instilled  in  the 
savage  mind  the  profound  belief  that  the  priests  were  the 
special  messengers  of  God  Himself. 

The  mission  was  unique  in  the  absence  of  arches  which 
marked  most  of  the  Franciscan  structures.  Square 
pillars  supported  the  veranda  along  the  front.  The  long 
buildings  backed  up  against  the  low  hills,  must  have  been 
a  picturesque  sight — must  have  been,  for  to-day  nothing 
remains  of  the  church,  where  one  hundred  and  thirty 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  105 

years  ago  numberless  devout  Indians  were  wont  to  daily 
recite  their  Pater  Nosters  and  Ave  Marias. 

THE    MIRACULOUS    LODGING 
{From  a  book  of  Legends) 

Father  Junlpero,  founder  of  the  California  Missions, 
was  on  one  of  his  errands  of  inspection  and  encourage- 
ment. Friar  Palou,  of  the  Franciscans,  was  his  com- 
panion, and  they  were  plodding  over  the  unpathed 
country  toward  Monterey,  a  full  day's  distance  from  the 
settlements,  when  night  came  upon  them.  The  air  was 
chill  and  there  was  no  shelter,  but  their  health  was  sound 
and  their  courage  warm. 

"Well,  brother,"  said  the  padre,  "we  can  go  no 
farther  to-night.  God  is  good.  He  will  not  let  us  come 
to  harm.  We  have  a  loaf  for  supper  and  a  cloak  for  a  bed. 
The  stars  are  coming  out  and  the  snakes  are  going  in. 
We  shall  sleep  in  peace." 

"We  shall  sleep  in  peace,  brother,"  replied  Palou. 
"Let  us  say  our  prayers,  for  I  am  heavy  with  the  day's 
journey." 

As  if  the  flower-bells  had  tolled  for  vespers,  the  two 
knelt  on  the  hillside  and  offered  up  their  thanks  and  their 
petitions,  asking  that  heaven  would  shelter  them  through 
the  dark  hours  by  its  loving  kindness  and  bless  their  work 
of  spreading  the  gospel.  As  they  arose  from  their  knees 
the  keen  eye  of  Father  Junlpero  caught  a  twinkle  of  light 


106  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

a  half  mile  ahead,  and  he  gave  a  little  cry  of  surprise. 
"It  must  be  white  men,"  he  said,  "for  it  is  not  the  red 
light  of  an  Indian  fire.  Yet  who  would  have  thought  of 
finding  our  people  in  this  wilderness.^" 

Friar  Palou  held  aloof,  and  his  face  was  pale.  "It  is 
not  our  people,"  he  said.  "There  is  no  house  or  cabin 
all  the  way  from  San  Juan  to  Monterey.  Alas !  It  is  the 
Devil  who  seeks  us,  far  from  our  churches.  He  tempts 
us  with  a  hope  of  shelter  when  there  is  none." 

"Be  of  better  faith.  We  will  go  forward.  Surely  a 
house  may  have  been  built  here  since  we  last  crossed  this 
country." 

"If  your  faith  is  strong  I  will  follow,  though  I  shall 
keep  tight  hold  on  my  crucifix,  and  constantly  repeat  the 
Virgin's  name." 

A  walk  of  a  few  minutes  brought  them  to  the  light. 
It  was  shining,  white  and  calm,  from  the  window  of  a 
small,  neat  adobe  house,  all  set  about  with  flowers.  The 
door  stood  open  and  a  sturdy  figure  of  a  man  was  dark 
against  the  luminous  interior  as  he  peered  into  the  night. 
When  the  travelers  had  come  in  sight  he  showed  no  sur- 
prise; on  the  contrary,  he  stepped  from  the  doorway 
with  a  grave  courtesy,  motioned  them  to  enter,  and  said: 
"Good  friends,  you  are  way-worn  and  hungry.  Be 
pleased  to  become  our  guests.    You  are  welcome." 

With  hearty  thanks  for  this  unexpected  hospitality 
the  missionaries  walked  into  the  plain  but  clean,  sweet- 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  107 
smelling  room.  It  was  simply  furnished  and  everything 
was  distinct  in  a  soft  yet  brilliant  light  of  candles.  A 
saintly  faced,  lovely  lady  greeted  them  and  motioned  them 
to  places  at  a  table  where  a  supper  of  bread,  herbs,  and 
wine  had  been  prepared,  and  a  gentle  sunny-haired  boy 
held  his  mother's  hand,  leaned  his  rosy  cheek  against  her, 
and  smiled  at  them.  The  grave,  kindly  man  who  had 
made  them  welcome — he  with  the  brown  face  and  hands, 
the  simple  dress  and  honest  way  of  an  artisan — served 
the  food  and  drink,  and  all  spoke  of  the  work  on  which 
the  Fathers  were  traveling.  It  seemed  to  them  as  if  on 
earth  there  could  be  no  other  home  like  this,  so  sweet 
and  gracious  were  their  hosts,  so  low  and  musical  their 
voices,  so  pure  the  air  and  feeling  of  the  place.  When 
the  repast  was  ended  they  would  have  begged  to  rest  on 
straw  outside  the  house;  but  before  they  had  put  this 
request  into  words  an  inner  door  had  been  thrown  open 
and  they  were  ushered  into  a  white  chamber  holding  two 
beds,  warmly  though  daintily  covered,  and  with  pleasant 
good-nights  the  family  withdrew,  leaving  the  Fathers  to 
their  rest. 

"We  spoke  truly  when  we  said  we  should  sleep  in 
peace,"  quothed  Palou. 

"It  Is  as  If  God  had  turned  our  steps  here.  Brother, 
there  is  such  peace  in  my  soul  as  I  have  never  felt  before. 
It  Is  well  with  the  world,  for  heaven  Is  kind  to  men." 

Tired    though    they    were,    they    prayed    long    and 


108  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

earnestly  before  they  slept.  In  the  morning,  before  day 
had  broken,  they  awoke  without  a  call,  were  bidden  to 
another  simple  meal,  and  presently  resumed  their  journey, 
after  many  thanks  to  the  man,  the  woman,  and  the  child 
for  their  goodness.  They  solemnly  invoked  the  blessing 
of  God  on  all  three,  and  bowed  low  and  stood  awhile  in 
silence  when  the  family  asked  a  blessing  on  them — silent 
because  they  were  strangely  moved  and  thrilled. 

They  had  been  on  their  way  not  many  minutes  when 
they  encountered  a  muleteer  of  the  country,  who  looked 
at  them  curiously.  "Good-day  to  your  reverences,"  he 
cried.  "You  look  as  happy  and  well  fed  and  refreshed 
with  sleep  as  if  you  had  breakfasted  with  his  excellency 
the  governor  and  had  laid  on  goosefeathers  all  night." 

"We  have  fared  notably,"  said  Palou,  "for  we  stopped 
at  the  house  yonder,  and  so  kind  a  family  can  be  found 
nowhere  else." 

"At  what  house,  pray.^*  There  is  no  house  for  miles 
and  miles.  Even  the  savages  come  into  this  part  of  the 
land  but  seldom." 

Said  Father  Junipero,  "It  is  plain  that  you,  like  our- 
selves, have  not  been  here  for  some  time.  The  house  we 
have  just  left  is  yonder,  by  those  trees — or — that  is — 
Why,  look,  brother,  it  is  gone!" 

The  dawn  was  whitening,  and  the  morning  star  threw 
down  one  long  beam  on  the  place  where  that  house  had 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  109 

been;  a  beam  such  as  fell  from  the  star  of  Bethlehem,  so 
that  a  silver  mist  brooded  upon  the  site. 

"Kneel!"  commanded  Junipcro.  "Miracle  has  been 
done.  Now  I  know  that  the  cottage  was  built  by  angels, 
and  they  who  served  us  were  Joseph,  Mary  and  Jesus. 
God  smiles  upon  our  work.  From  this  hour  we  dedicate 
ourselves  to  it  with  new  vigor  and  a  firmer  faith." 


CHAPTER  X 

BACK   TO    EL    CAMINO    REAL   AND    WHAT    SAN    LUIS    OBISPO 
HAS   TO   TELL    OF    HER    ROMANTIC    PAST 

Out  from  Harris  the  countryside  Is  a  veritable  splash 
of  color.  The  hills  browned  by  the  scorching  sun  are 
spattered  with  shrubs  that  under  the  same  fire  have 
turned  to  deep  umber,  making  shadows  contrary  to  all 
laws  of  nature.  Yellow  masses  of  golden  wheat  are 
clumped  about  deep  gashes  torn  In  the  hillside  by  the 
rush  of  waters  that  have  stained  the  earth  to  the  hue  of 
muddy  coffee.  So  theatrical  Is  It  according  to  one  writer 
that  you  almost  expect  to  see  a  chorus  of  stage  milk- 
maids come  trooping  out  the  "wings"  of  Santa  Maria. 

A  saintly-looking  town  Is  Santa  Maria,  with  the  lid 
well  clamped  down  over  her  natural  fiery  Impulses — the 
gas  wells  that  forever  rumble  beneath  the  surface.  In 
earlier  days  the  Fire  Spirit  sent  a  roar  of  flames  gushing 
high  from  every  gaping  cavity,  around  which  the  Indians 
danced  and  chanted  in  solemn  worship.  Bowing  to  the 
earth  again  and  again  they  would  cast  Into  the  glowing 
pit  their  choicest  possessions,  In  the  primitive  belief  that 

110 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  HI 
this  god  demanded  earthly  gifts  from  all  his  worshippers. 

Across  the  Santa  Maria  River  is  a  valley  still  known 
as  the  Oso  Flaco  (lean  bear),  receiving  its  name  from  one 
of  the  Spanish  soldiers  of  the  Portola  expedition  who 
killed  a  half-sick  bear,  so  emaciated  that  it  could  hardly 
toddle,  and  insisted  upon  immortalizing  his  exploit — 
probably  it  was  the  same  famous  sharpshooter  who 
brought  down  the  gull  at  Gavioto.  Here  begins  that  wide 
stretch  of  cattle  ranches  known  to  the  elect  as  "cow 
heaven."  The  dense  foliage  of  the  plentiful  oaks  affords 
shelter  during  the  hottest  noonday  or  in  the  midst  of  the 
fiercest  gale.  The  level  stretches  are  covered  with 
native  grasses  that  grow  lush  and  luxuriant,  always  within 
easy  distance  of  quiet  pools  sheltered  in  some  shady  nook. 
Under  such  cow-heavenly  conditions  it  is  no  wonder  that 
the  original  twenty-one  bulls,  nine  cows  and  eight  calves 
of  the  Mission  San  Luis  Obispo  increased  and  multi- 
plied with  such  extraordinary  rapidity  that  in  a  few  years 
the  number  could  only  be  estimated. 

Approaching  Arroyo  Grande  the  wayside  hills  are 
half  hidden  by  a  ghostly  curtain  of  mist  woven  by  the 
breath  of  the  nearby  Pacific  just  as  children  film  the 
window  panes  by  gently  breathing  upon  them.  With 
Pismo  the  ocean  comes  into  full  sight,  ceaselessly  at  work, 
its  long,  curling  breakers  cutting  into  the  overhanging 
rocks  numberless  strange  arches  and  sea  caves.  Just 
behind  are  curious  terraced  gardens,  the  lowest  hardly 


112  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

ten  feet  above  low  tide,  the  middle  perhaps  sixty,  while 
a  third  is  fully  a  hundred  feet  over  the  sea,  all  planted  in 
one  mass  of  flowers  whose  fragrance  is  carried  by  ocean 
breezes  far  inshore  to  more  plebian  neighbors.  This  is 
the  playground  of  the  thousands  fleeing  from  the  heat  of 
the  interior  and  the  paradise  of  motor  speedsters  who  with 
wide  open  throttle  fly  over  the  seventeen  miles  of  beach 
in  half  as  many  minutes. 

In  brilliant  sunshine  and  under  cloudless  sky  its  long 
stretches  with  slow-reaching  waves  makes  a  fairy  spec- 
tacle, but  to  the  eye  of  Cagrillo,  who  discovered  it  nearly 
four  centuries  ago  on  a  dark  November  day,  the  moun- 
tainous waves  then  thundering  upon  the  shore,  must 
have  been  a  sinister  and  menacing  sight.  He  named  it 
Todos  Santos  (all  saints),  feeling  that  his  danger  justified 
him  In  calling  upon  the  entire  hierarchy  of  the  blessed 
realm,  but  Gasper  de  Portola,  on  a  later  land  expedition 
thought  one  saint  was  sufficient  and  dedicated  the  entire 
valley  to  San  Luis  Obispo  de  Tolosa. 

The  town  and  mission  of  that  name  is  seven  miles 
inland.  At  Its  outskirts  is  a  cheery  sign  of  greeting: 
"Welcome  to  our  city" — rather  unfortunately  placed  at 
the  gateway  of  the  cemetery! 

SAN    LUIS    OBISPO    DE    TOLOSA 

According  to  that  much  quoted  diary  of  Father 
Crespi,  written  during  the  Monterey  Expedition  in  1769, 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  113 

It  was  near  the  Canada  de  los  Osos,  or  Bear  Valley,  where 
bears  were  so  plentiful  that  the  ground  was  pawed  up  for 
miles  in  their  search  for  roots,  that  the  exploring  party 
came  to  a  gentle-rising  hill  overlooking  a  charming 
vista  of  meadows,  hills  and  winding  streams.  Here 
Father  Crespi  at  once  determined  to  found  a  new  mission, 
showing  the  same  unerring  judgment  exhibited  In  the 
founding  of  all  California  Missions. 

Three  years  later,  or  on  September  1,  1772,  Father 
Palou  writes  that  the  cross  was  elevated  on  this  very 
spot.  They  suspended  a  bell  to  the  branch  of  a  syca- 
more growing  on  the  river's  edge  and  after  ringing  it  for 
some  time  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  Indians,  cried 
aloud:  ^^Ea  Gentiles/  Venid!  Venidl  a  la  Santa  Iglesa 
a  recibir  la  fe  de  Jesu  CristoP^ — (Come,  O  ye  Gentiles 
and  receive  the  faith  of  Jesus  Christ).  The  Indians 
although  not  understanding  a  word,  by  curiosity  were 
drawn  In  great  numbers,  and  mass  was  sung  to  a  vast 
throng. 

Under  the  lights  and  shadows  of  the  waning  day  one 
of  the  neighboring  hills  showed  a  triple  peak,  suggesting 
to  these  men  of  simple  faith  a  bishop's  mitre,  and  to  this 
very  day  that  hill  Is  called  the  hill  of  the  bishop,  and  the 
mission  was  named  after  the  Bishop  of  Toulouse,  San 
Luis  Obispo  de  Tolosa,  an  Italian  saint  of  the  Thirteenth 
Century.  It  is  possibly  worthy  of  notice  that  the  quality 
of  sainthood  seems  to  vary  with  the  number  of  years 


114  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

elapsed  since  canonization.  In  other  words,  the  longer 
one  is  dead,  the  more  of  a  saint  he  will  be.  But  St.  Luis 
though  he  dated  only  from  the  Thirteenth  Century, 
ranks  far  above  those  who  entered  the  race  for  saintly 
honors  many  centuries  before — an  example  to  other  infant 
prodigies.  Being  made  a  prisoner  in  one  of  the  Sicillian 
wars  and  attacked  with  a  long  and  dangerous  illness,  he 
vowed  that  if  he  recovered  he  would  join  the  Order  of 
St.  Francis.  After  seven  years  spent  in  captivity  he  was 
released  and  fulfilled  his  vow.  Many  years  later  he  was 
elected  Bishop  of  Tolouse,  where  he  made  a  name  for 
himself,  even  in  a  day  of  many  famous  men.  He  died 
before  reaching  the  age  of  twenty-four . 

The  usual  temporary  buildings  were  at  once  erected, 
to  which  flocked  the  Indians,  very  friendly  and  most 
profuse  in  their  thanks  for  the  help  of  the  strangers  in 
driving  away  the  bears  with  powder  and  ball,  for  most  of 
them  could  show  terrible  wounds  received  in  their  daily 
encounters  with  these  creatures.  When  more  substantial 
buildings  became  necessary,  there  arose  upon  the  "gentle- 
rising  hill"  a  long  stretch  of  white  walls  with  a  towered 
church,  the  facade  pierced  and  recessed  for  bells.  Along 
the  convento  front  ran  an  arcade,  inviting  the  rays  of  the 
morning  sun  and  granting  protection  against  the  ocean's 
cool  afternoon  winds.  Immediately  before  it  lay  the  El 
Camino  Real,  by  which  travelled  all  the  voyagers  of  that 
day.     Being  so  near,  this  road  was  a  constant  source  of 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  115 

danger.  And  three  times  the  buildings  were  set  on  fire  by 
unknown  hands  before  one  of  the  padres  conceived  the 
idea  of  roof-plates  of  hard  burnt  clay.  He  became 
known  as  the  "tile  Padre,"  and  his  tiles  covered  all  the 
missions  from  San  Diego  to  Sonoma.  They  were  made  by 
the  neophytes,  who  would  knead  the  earthy  clay  with 
their  feet  until  the  mixture  reached  the  proper  consistency 
— tiresome  work,  and  the  tile  Padre  soon  discovered  that 
the  only  way  to  keep  the  Indians  at  their  task  was  to 
gather  the  priests  around  the  mixing  trough  and  have 
them  sing  old  Gregorian  chants.  When  the  singing 
stopped  the  Indians  stopped. 

San  Luis  rose  to  great  wealth,  being  amongst  the 
richest  of  the  missions,  tradition  falsely  asserting  that  the 
main  source  of  these  riches  was  local  gold  mines,  but 
though  eagerly  sought  by  keen-eyed  Yankees  for  a  cen- 
tury, not  a  trace  of  them  has  ever  been  discovered. 
Amongst  the  hillside  Indians,  worshippers  of  the  sun,  the 
god  who  made  the  earth  and  rules  the  sky,  whose  wife  is 
the  moon  and  whose  children  are  the  stars,  and  whose 
rising  is  daily  greeted  with  cries  of  joy — there  is  the 
legend  that  this  deity  will  some  day  return  from  the 
West  and  drive  out  the  white  intruders.  When  he  does 
so  he  will  demand  earth's  golden  store  as  his  reward, 
and  until  then  none  can  be  removed! 

In  1833  the  blighting  hand  of  secularization  throttled 
all  further  progress.     The  vicious  and  revengeful  Mexi- 


116  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

cans  never  concerned  as  to  the  legality  of  their  actions, 
wrecked  and  pillaged  without  heed  for  the  to-morrow, 
and  soon  only  dismantled,  deserted  buildings  remained. 
At  the  American  occupation  the  church  was  used  as  a 
barracks  and  the  convento  as  a  jail,  then  as  a  school 
house,  a  restaurant,  and  even  as  a  saloon. 

Modern  innovations,  called  improvements,  have  swept 
away  all  trace  of  those  "gardens  of  surpassing  beauty" 
which  once  stretched  for  a  mile  or  more  beyond  the  mis- 
sion, leaving,  in  odd,  out-of-the-way  corners,  haphazard 
clumps  of  olives,  giving  the  town  of  Obispo  the  familiar 
nickname  of  "Little  Italy,"  much  to  the  disgust  of  many 
of  the  inhabitants  who  claim  Portugal,  Mexico  or  Spain 
as  their  birth  place,  and  are  still  speaking  their  own 
language — the  explanation  of  the  frequent  signs  posted 
about  the  city:  "English  Taught." 

El  Camino  Real  has  been  transplanted  to  the  center 
of  the  city,  while  just  across  the  old  road,  blocking  the 
view  of  those  with  an  eye  inclined  to  look  upon  the 
crumbling  yet  beautiful  remains,  are  a  Palace  Bar,  an 
Oyster  Cafe  and  an  Imperial  Garage.  These  ugly  mon- 
strosities seem  to  have  disapproved  the  taste  of  the 
reverend  Fathers,  for  the  beautiful  arcade  has  been  torn 
down  and  the  adobe  clapboarded  into  an  ugly  New 
England  meeting  house.  But  nothing  can  take  away  the 
peace  of  the  sweet  old-fashioned  inner  garden  where  the 
low,    overhanging    roofs    covered    with    grapevines    and 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  117 

roses  invite  repose,  and  fortunately  nothing  has  been 
taken  from  the  church  itself;  everything,  even  to  the  little 
old-fashioned  silver  censer  is  as  it  was  years  ago,  while 
the  investments  and  robes  brocaded  with  gold  and  silver, 
richer  than  anything  manufactured  in  our  day,  are  just 
as  they  were  when  sent  from  wicked  old  Spain  to  lure  the 
ignorant  Indian  into  the  bosom  of  the  church. 

Of  the  five  bells  brought  over  by  the  old  Fathers  only 
one  has  lost  the  use  of  its  tongue,  and  that  one  sits  quietly 
off  in  one  corner,  mutely  telling  the  story  of  a  wondrous 
past.  And  in  the  main  those  old  days  were  days  of  kind- 
ness, of  sacrifice  and  obedience  to  the  edicts  of  the 
Franciscan  Order.  De  Mofras  writes  of  finding  Padre 
Abella,  after  forty-seven  years  of  work,  living  in  solitude 
in  the  ruined  mission,  with  no  attendant,  no  bed  but  a 
hide  stretched  on  a  wooden  frame,  no  cup  except  a  hol- 
lowed horn,  and  no  food  except  strips  of  jerked  beef 
furnished  by  the  foreign  occupants  of  the  mission  lands, 
and  this  food  he  shared  with  the  few  surviving  Indians 
who  lingered  about  their  old  abode. 

Certainly,  Father  Abella  realized  the  vision  of  St. 
Francis. 

TWO    NATIVE   DANCES 

The  setting  sun  on  the  last  day  of  the  week  gave  the 
eagerly  awaited  signal  for  all  the  neophytes  to  gather 
just  outside  the  mission  walls,  where  in  the  open  field  lay 


118  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

a  great  circular  hall  built  of  widely  separated  poles,  sup- 
porting a  roof  of  tule.  Around  the  outside  of  this  rotunda 
were  stuck  lighted  torches.  In  the  center  was  a  blazing 
fire,  throwing  into  sharp  relief  the  musicians  already  in 
place.  A  deep  roll  of  many  drums,  with  a  blare  of 
trumpets  and  a  staccato  of  castanets  set  up  a  plaintive, 
wild  harmony,  moving  to  the  nerves  rather  than  to  the 
soul,  but  soon  attracting  about  the  fire  a  band  of  dancers 
naked  but  for  loin  cloths  and  feathered  hats,  their  bodies 
striped  black,  blue  and  red,  and  in  their  hands  sticks 
taller  than  themselves. 

To  the  music  they  begin  to  circle  around  the  fire,  the 
body  curved,  the  knee  somewhat  bent,  moving  with 
wonderful  accord.  Gesticulating  in  frightful  contortions 
and  grimacing  with  hate  and  terror,  they  strike  the  ground 
with  their  sticks  and  then  as  though  coming  from  a  great 
distance,  an  Indian  completely  covered  with  feathers 
bursts  upon  the  scene.  At  sight  of  him  the  dancers  shriek 
with  fright  and  run  as  if  to  hide,  calling  upon  the  gods  to 
protect  them  from  Cucusuy — the  devil.  A  fanfare  of 
trumpets  is  sounded  to  drive  away  evil  spirits,  and 
Cucusuy  retires  behind  the  trees  from  whence  come  cries 
and  groans  of  torment  and  suffering.  At  these  sounds  the 
dancers  resume  their  places,  again  circling  around 
the  fire,  this  time  throwing  live  birds  into  the  blazing 
ashes  which  they  kceo  turning  with  their  sticks  as  they 
dance. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  119 
When   well   roasted,   the  birds   are   pulled   out   and 
divided   among   the   spectators,    the   torches   are   extin- 
guished and  the  dance  is  at  an  end. 

It  is  fiesta  at  the  mission,  and  long  before  their  elders 
will  rise  from  their  comfortable  beds,  the  young  girls 
gather  at  the  arbor  where  the  la  jota  song  will  soon  ring 
out  in  the  morning  air.  Very  beautiful  most  of  them, 
with  a  slight  tint  of  brown  to  the  skin,  a  pair  of  sparkling 
black  eyes  and  teeth  of  the  whitest  color.  All  wear  skirts 
of  fine  muslin,  overspread  with  gilt  spangles,  brightly 
colored  jackets  and  high-heeled  slippers  that  click  as 
they  walk.  Most  of  them  have  their  hair  combed  straight 
back,  held  high  on  the  head  by  a  tortoise-shell  comb,  the 
coil  pierced  by  a  long  thick  pin  of  gold,  tipped  with 
jewels.  Some  are  covered  with  mantillas,  the  ends 
gathered  across  the  breast  and  pulled  tight,  showing  the 
well-shaped  figures  to  the  best  ad-vantage. 

No  sooner  seated  in  an  arbor  roofed  with  boughs  and 
gay  with  ribbons  and  flowers,  then  the  harp  and  the  violin 
strike  up  a  joyous  melody,  so  full  of  fantastic  quirks  as 
to  put  "Old  Nick"  in  the  feet  of  every  dancer.  As  the 
sound  floats  out  over  the  plaza,  up  to  the  arbor  come 
dashing  forty  young  horsemen  dressed  in  their  finest — 
a  broad-brimmed,  pointed  crown  hat  of  leather,  glossed 
to  a  mirror-like  polish  rests  on  a  red  silk  handkerchief 
wound  turban-fashion  about  the  head,  a  band  under  the 


120  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

chin  holds  the  hat  In  place,  while  a  gold  silk  cord  and 
tassel  dangles  over  the  side  of  the  hat,  hiding  itself  in  the 
mass  of  dark  locks  that  curl  about  their  shoulders.  A 
wide  white  collar  rolls  over  a  bluish  vest  which  fits  close 
like  a  coat  of  mail,  gold  buttons  matching  the  hat  tassel 
ornament  the  vest.  A  brilliant  red  sash  holds  the  black 
velvet  trousers  in  place,  and  these  are  slit  up  to  the  knee, 
revealing  tight-fitting  buckskin  leggings  laced  all  the 
way  down  to  the  wicked-looking  spurs  clamped  to  the 
boot  heels. 

Dismounting,  these  cavaliers  remove  their  spurs  and 
hang  them  at  their  saddle  bow  and  with  hat  In  hand  enter 
the  arbor,  where  kneeling  before  the  partner  of  their 
choice  they  sigh  out:  ^' Sabe  que  soy  suyo^' — (Know  that 
I  am  thine).  The  senoritas  at  once  arrange  themselves 
opposite  the  senors,  leaving  a  wide  space  between,  the 
man  at  the  head  begins  to  sing  some  popular  folk  song 
not  unlike  a  Mother  Goose  melody.  The  woman  opposite 
takes  up  the  strain,  followed  by  the  next  two,  forming 
a  quartette  of  voices.  Singing,  the  four  pirouette  down 
the  center,  then  around  the  outside  to  their  former  sta- 
tions, when  succeeding  four  follow  in  order.  With  grace- 
fully swinging  figures,  in  perfect  time  to  the  music  which 
sways  from  a  grand  crescendo  to  a  faint  whisper  of  song 
they  dance  around  and  around  the  room. 

This  is  a  breakfast  appetizer. 


CHAPTER  XI 

ABOUT  THE   ONE-TIME  DANGEROUS    ROADS  AND  THE  MYTH 

OF  SAN  MIGUEL 

Some  six  miles  out  from  San  Luis  Obispo  is  one  of  the 
high  points  in  the  Santa  Lucia  Range.  It  bears  the  name 
of  Cuesta,  meaning  "pass,"  and  at  the  Httle  red  school- 
house  up  the  road  it  is  probably  taught,  with  pride,  that 
this  name  was  given  by  Viscaino,  away  back  in  1602. 
But  to  these  half-breed,  fiery-blooded  Mexicans  it  is  far 
more  a  matter  of  pride  that  here,  on  this  very  spot,  their 
countryman  Joaquin  Murieta  fought  the  Americans  and 
caused  them  to  withdraw. 

Murieta  was  the  "King  of  California  cut-throats'* — 
the  "Fra  Diavolo  of  this  Eldorado,"  with  a  history 
abounding  in  dramatic  interest.  He  came  to  the  country 
when  the  first  flush  of  the  gold  fever  was  spreading  abroad, 
and  started  as  an  honest  miner  staking  out  his  claim  which 
unfortunately  proved  so  rich  that  American  desperadoes 
heard  of  it  and  drove  him  away  after  strapping  him  to  a 
tree  and  flogging  him  to  near-unconsciousness.  As  the 
heavy  thongs  lacerated  his  bare  back,  Murieta  registered 

121 


122  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

an  oath  of  vengeance  and  became  the  implacable  foe  of 
every  American.  To  kill  was  now  his  dream.  For  every 
lash  laid  upon  him  he  vowed  that  ten  Yankees'  lives 
should  be  forfeited,  and  within  a  month  Murieta  was  at 
the  head  of  a  band  of  highwaymen  who  fearlessly  ravaged 
and  killed  in  every  direction,  even  though  along  the  whole 
mission  coast  line  the  country  was  bewailing  its  dead  and 
ringing  with  offers  of  reward. 

Just  a  bit  off  the  highway,  on  a  knoll,  amidst  golden 
fields,  is  the  Chapel  Santa  Margarita,  an  asistencia  of 
San  Luis,  only  eleven  miles  away  from  the  mother  church, 
but  known  as  the  half-way  meeting  place  between  San 
Luis  and  San  Miguel,  where  the  friars  occasionally  came 
together  for  mutual  help  and  to  confess  one  to  the  other. 
It  is  now  the  storage  place  for  a  neighboring  ranch,  all 
vestige  of  chapel  ha^'dng  disappeared  long  since. 

But  still  standing  on  the  western  border  of  the  great 
Carrisa  plain  of  San  Luis  Obispo  is  a  temple,  hewn  in  the 
rock,  facing  the  rising  sun — a  temple  for  sun  worshippers, 
called  by  the  Spanish  discovers  La  Piedra  Pintada, 
"The  Painted  Rock."  From  amongst  these  sun  wor- 
shippers the  Mission  San  Luis  drew  many  of  its  converts^ 
but  never  was  able  entirely  to  kill  the  love  and  devotion 
given  by  them  to  the  bright,  shining  sun  which  came  so 
mysteriously  from  out  of  the  East,  bringing  all  comforts 
and  chasing  away  all  terrors.  Perhaps  this  love  of  nature 
made  them  the  better  Christians.    Who  knows? 


'v. 


•..>r?rt«. 


iM>()R\\.\y,  SANTA  MARCARITA  CHAPKL  AT  SAN  LUIS  OBISPO 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  123 

On  the  direct  highway,  about  eighteen  or  nineteen 
miles  from  San  Luis,  is  another  sort  of  Aladdin  Lamp 
performance — the  Atascadera  colony,  a  realization  of  the 
magic  vision  of  an  enterprising  Easterner  who,  almost  over 
night,  transformed  a  thousand-acre  cattle  ranch  into  a 
veritable  co-operative  community  city.  Butcher,  baker 
and  candlestick-maker  are  housed  in  a  great  building  of 
steel  and  concrete.  All  of  the  community  settlers,  being 
stockholders,  trade  there  and  there  alone.  In  the  muni- 
cipal centre,  where  are  staged  the  town  activities,  is  a 
pretentious  edifice  (and  no  other  word  would  describe  it). 
From  this  rad  iate  miles  of  beautiful  avenues,  shaded  by 
full-grown  trees,  running  as  far  as  the  beaches  of  the 
Pacific,  where  the  waves  thunder  upon  the  shore,  and 
spray  the  rocky  coast  with  great  geysers  of  surf,  for  the 
sole  amusement  of  this  close  corporation. 

Through  oak-studded  plains  winds  the  macadam 
boulevard,  passing  Templeton,  one  of  the  four  great  mili- 
tary camps  of  the  United  States,  where  the  wide  open 
spaces  lend  themselves  to  world-war  manoeuvers,  with 
thousands  participating  in  its  sham  battles.  Plains  give 
way  to  curving  hills;  with  rise  and  dip  from  one  plateau 
to  another,  leading  finally  into  Paso  Robles,  "The  Pass  of 
Oaks,"  whose  advertising  booklets  modestly  describe  it 
as  the  only  place  in  the  world  to  "recreate,  rest  and 
recuperate^"  and  warrant  their  sulphur  and  mud  baths  to 
cure  all  the  ills  of  the  world.    There  is  a  legend  attached 


124  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

to  this  last  panegyric:  The  Indian  Utes'  great  chief, 
Forked  Lightning,  loved  for  his  justice  as  well  as  his 
power  and  courage,  was  one  time  stricken  with  an  unac- 
countable disease  and  the  medicine  men  gave  him  to 
Death,  telling  him  that  the  Great  Spirit  wished  to  gather 
him  to  his  fathers.  Yet,  in  an  effort  to  propitiate  their 
gods,  they  decided  on  a  last  sacrifice.  A  buffalo  bull  was 
killed,  skinned,  lifted  to  an  altar  of  logs,  and  burned,  the 
people  prostrating  themselves  during  this  ceremony. 
When  the  body  had  gone  to  ashes  the  medicine  men  said 
"Rise.  The  god  has  spoken.  Our  chief  will  not  die.  A 
big  medicine  Is  to  come  from  the  earth  and  cure  him,  and 
it  shall  be  for  all  time  for  the  healing  of  our  nation.  Day 
after  day  an  arrow  must  be  shot,  until  it  falls  and  stands 
upright  in  the  earth,  there  will  a  great  medicine  appear." 
And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  a  far-off  roaring  sounded  in 
the  earth,  the  rocks  trembled,  and  the  people  hid  their 
faces,  believing  that  the  Great  Spirit  was  passing  and  the 
ground  was  bending  under  his  footsteps.  Then  came  a 
crash  and  hiss  as  the  earth  opened  and  fountains  of  mud 
and  scalding  water  were  hurled  into  the  air.  Steam  and 
sulphur  fumes  burst  forth  as  from  the  centre  of  the  globe. 
When  the  commotion  had  subsided  the  chief  commanded 
his  men  to  bury  him  to  the  chin  in  warm  mud  and  leave 
him  there  for  a  day.  This  they  did.  In  the  evening,  when 
he  came  out,  he  had  regained  not  his  health  alone,  but  his 
youth. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  125 
Such  is  the  history  of  the  Pasa  Robles  springs,  and 
to  this  day  the  Indian  sick  are  brought  from  far-away 
lands.  Nine  miles  out  of  Pasa  Robles,  still  among  the 
oaks,  following  the  Salinas  River,  brings  one  to  the  Mis- 
sion San  Miguel. 


SAN   MIGUEL 

The  mission  dedicated  to  the  Gloriosisimo  Principe 
Archangel  Senor  San  Miguel  was  founded  July  25,  1797. 
Archangel  Michael  beams  as  the  light  of  light,  opening  a 
vision  of  heaven  to  the  multitude  on  earth.  The  four 
archangels  are  the  watchmen  of  the  Catholic  Church  and 
Michael  is  the  chief  of  these  guardians.  He  was  prince  of 
the  armies  which  stood  around  the  Jewish  people  crying 
to  the  angelic  hosts:  "Mi-cha-el  Quisut  Deus."  Now 
he  is  prince  of  the  host  guarding  the  Church  of  God. 
He  has  wings,  and  golden  hair,  and  a  circlet  from  which  a 
cross  rises  above  his  brow,  and  he  carries  a  pair  of  scales 
weighing  souls. 

Those  old  padres  must  have  been  a  sturdy  lot,  for  in 
this  so-called  pass  of  San  Miguel  the  sun  burns  with  a 
heat  almost  unbearable.  Cabrlllo  called  it  Caliente  For- 
nelo — ^Hot  Furnace — which,  according  to  some  etymolo- 
gists, are  the  root  words  for  California.  Local  gossips  tell 
in  all  seriousness,  how  even  the  flies  cannot  endure  the 
months  of  July  and  August,  but  during  the  heat  of  any 


126  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

day  can  be  seen  gasping  upon  the  tile  floorings.    A  dog- 
gerel current  in  the  little  town  best  tells  the  story: 
"She  bowed  her  head  upon  his  breast 

As  hotter  grew  the  summer  weather, 
And  as  her  form  he  weakly  pressed, 

They  melted  right  away  together." 
But  hot  as  it  was,  Father  Sitjar  and  Antonio  de  la  Con- 
cepcion  immediately  began  the  erection  of  the  church 
and  other  necessary  buildings — never  very  extensive, 
as  compared  with  those  on  the  lower  end  of  the  chain, 
but  even  to  this  day  most  interesting;  as  for  some  inex- 
plainable  reason  neither  time  nor  man  has  done  much  to 
disturb  them.  Mr.  James,  a  student  of  mission  decora- 
tion, describes  the  walls  as  painted  with  a  series  of  bands, 
some  in  green  and  brown,  with  pomegranate  leaves  and 
fruit,  or  conventional  designs  in  lozenge  pattern.  Other 
bands  in  pinks  and  shades  of  green  radiate  fan-shape  from 
the  floor,  topped  by  a  frieze  and  a  painted  balustrade. 
The  old  pulpit  has  a  peculiar  fascination  with  its  quaint 
sounding-board  and  crown-like  cover,  surmounted  by  a 
ball  upon  which  rests  a  cross,  resembling  a  bird  nest 
fastened  to  the  wall  or  as  someone  puts  it,  like  a  candle- 
extinguisher  about  to  drop.  On  the  old  cell-like  confes- 
sional are  still  traceable  the  carved  roses  signifying  sub- 
rosa,  the  artist  forgetting  that  Cupid  gave  the  Harpocrates, 
the  God  of  Silence,  a  rose  to  bribe  him  not  to  betray  the 
amours  of  Venus. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  127 

Exteriorly  the  church  has  also  been  maintained  in  a 
fair  state  of  repair.  The  corridor  which  fronts  the  con- 
vento  is  just  as  it  was,  despite  the  amusing  construction  of 
the  arches — irregular,  varying  in  size  and  shape,  unusual 
even  in  the  work  of  these  amateur  mission  architects. 
The  white  walls  are  topped  by  the  original  dull-red  tile, 
making  a  pleasing  color  contrast  to  the  green  of  the  sur- 
rounding pasture  land.  In  all,  San  Miguel  has  much  of 
the  ancient  flavor  one  might  expect  in  an  old-time  mis- 
sion, were  it  not  for  the  distressing  modern  note  sounded 
by  a  tall  steel  spider-legged  tower,  in  which  swings  the 
church  bell — all  the  old  bells  cast  into  one.  And  this  lack 
of  respect  for  historic  monuments  is  only  enhanced  by  the 
irregligious  tendency  of  these  modern  days,  shown  in  the 
sign  tacked  to  the  entrance  door: 

"This  is  a  church.  Treat  it  as  such.  Playing  rag- 
time on  the  organ  is  forbidden.  On  entering  please  re- 
move your  hat.  No  dumping  of  lunch  boxes,  rubbish  or 
empty  bottles  on  the  church  grounds — you  wouldn't  like 
it  on  your  own  private  grounds." 

Within  the  inner  quadrangle,  once  thick  set  with 
grapevines  and  fruit  trees,  is  only  "a  ragged  corporal's 
guard"  of  ancient  pears,  spared  at  the  time  of  seculariza- 
tion by  some  conscience-stricken  Father  who  probably 
was  accustomed  to  rest  beneath  their  shade  during  the 
heat  of  the  day  or  perhaps  fed  from  their  luscious  fruit 
and  didn't  have  the  heart  to  destroy  them. 


128  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

Not  far  away  several  sulphurous  hot  springs  bubble, 
boil  and  sizzle — the  off-shoots,mostlikely,  of  the  big  spring 
of  Pasa  Robles,  causing  this  little  mission — the  smallest — 
to  become  the  most  popular,  for  here  the  Padres  of  all 
the  missions,  together  with  ecclesiastics  of  every  rank 
were  wont  to  congregate,  spending  days  and  sometimes 
weeks  in  the  healing  waters. 

The  padres  were  physicians  for  the  body  as  well  as 
for  the  soul,  and  endeavored  to  follow  their  Master  in 
healing  the  sick,  raising  the  dead  and  casting  out  devils. 
At  each  mission  there  was  what  we  moderns  would  know 
as  an  infirmary — ^just  a  gallery  with  some  mats  on  which 
the  sick  neophytes  could  lie.  Here  the  padres,  as  best 
they  could,  acted  as  physicians,  though  generally  the 
Indians  preferred  their  own  medicine  men  who  by  study 
or  tradition  had  acquired  a  certain  knowledge  of  the  vir- 
tues of  plants.  For  ordinary  pains  counter-irritants  pro- 
duced by  a  whipping  of  nettles  or  even  the  bites  of  large 
ants  were  no  uncommon  remedy,  though  blood-letting 
was  often  practised,  the  affected  part  being  cut  with  a 
sharp  stone.  When  a  person  felt  seriously  ill,  it  was  always 
declared  to  be  caused  by 'the  presence  of  some  foreign 
body  such  as  a  hair,  bone  or  thorn,  and  one  of  the  sorcerers 
would  apply  his  lips  to  the  seat  of  the  disease  and  pretend 
to  draw  out  by  suction  the  cause  of  the  disorder,  and  we 
moderns  can  ill  afford  to  laugh  when  we  think  of  the 
many  patients  of  to-day  who  have  been  cured  by  the 


^rr. 


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■•^cr3 


\*r.  '^^         S 


:l 


■W»        ►-'■a 


H!H 


~  A~-».^a» 

-tesic* 

\^il 

-4SSS* 

m. 

ly 

.  ^  " 

"tr^" 

-*^^ 

■V 

CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  129 
pretended  extraction  of  some  foreign  substance  from  a 
supposedly  affected  part.  If  a  disease  was  persistent 
the  patient  was  laid  upon  a  bed  of  ashes  or  dry  sand  with 
vessels  of  food  and  water  at  his  head,  and  a  fire  at  his  feet, 
and  the  result  anxiously  watched  by  visiting  friends. 

Great  confidence  being  in  their  medicine  men  the 
imagination  of  the  patient  was  often  strong  enough  or 
sufficiently  excited  to  effect  a  wonderful  cure,  in  which 
case  the  fame  of  the  doctor  was  spread  far  and  wide. 

AN   EXTRACT  FROM  THE    LIFE    BOOK   OF  TWO 
MISUNDERSTOOD  PADRES 

It  was  one  of  those  oppressively  hot  days,  so  common 
in  the  pass  of  San  Miguel,  when  even  the  animals  of  the 
field  lay  gasping  for  breath.  And  to  increase  the  discom- 
fort, the  steam  that  was  forever  floating  about  the  hot 
springs  near  the  mission,  to-day  poured  out  in  sizzling 
streams  as  though  the  satanic  stokers  were  gleefully 
adding  more  fuel  to  the  fires  below. 

Father  Antonio  de  la  Concepcion  wearily  dragged 
himself  out  into  the  court,  searching  for  a  breath  of  air. 
He  was  so  tired  and  his  head  buzzed  so  strangely  with 
the  disordered  thoughts  that  kept  hammering  away  for 
recognition;  and  he  had  fought  these  devilish  thoughts 
so  long — ^with  no  one  to  help.  Here  he  was  in  the  interior 
of  an  unknown  country,  surrounded  by  savages  with 
whom  he  could  communicate  only  by  signs,  completely 


130  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

isolated  from  other  human  companionship,  mentally 
and  physically  weary.  Something  all  of  a  sudden  cracked, 
and  the  devil  took  a  hand  in  the  game. 

Antonio  began  to  fancy  himself  a  great  ruler  and  with 
despotic  authority  ordered  the  Indians  to  stop  work 
and  make  ready  for  a  war  of  conquest.  He  collected 
them  all  on  the  plaza  and  drilled  them  in  military  man- 
oeuvers,  compelling  them  to  discharge  flights  of  arrows, 
while  the  soldiers,  drawn  up  in  battle  array,  fired  round 
after  round  of  blank  cartridges.  The  sound  of  these  fire- 
arms and  the  sight  of  this  mimic  warfare  seemed  to  feed 
his  imaginings,  and  threw  him  into  greater  and  greater 
extravagance. 

The  Indians  looked  on,  first  in  astonishment  and  then 
in  terror,  finally  becoming  so  frightened  that  they  fled  the 
mission.  The  soldiers,  long  perplexed  as  to  their  duty, 
when  once  they  discovered  that  Father  Concepcion  car- 
ried concealed  in  his  sacerdotal  robes  a  pair  of  loaded 
pistols,  decided  to  take  him,  forcibly  if  they  must,  to 
Presidente  Lasuen.  So  they  seized  and  secured  him, 
marching  him  off  to  Monterey,  where,  taken  before  the 
governor,  he  was  pronounced  incurably  insane. 

The  lonely  life,  the  incessant  toil,  the  continual  depri- 
vations had  taken  their  awful  toll,  and  would  continue  to 
do  so  as  long  as  there  were  men  to  be  found  who  were 
ready  to  feed  their  spiritual  young  with  their  own  life- 
blood. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  131 

The  proud  and  somewhat  haughty  Father  Luis 
Martinez  was  largely  responsible  for  the  stories  of  mis- 
sionary luxury  so  inconsistent  with  the  vows  of  mendicant 
poverty.  The  Father  Presidente  had  entreated  all  the 
Friars  to  avoid  every  appearance  of  worldly  ease  and  had 
even  severely  reprimanded  each  violation  of  the  Fran- 
ciscan rules.  "We  are  obliged  not  only  to  avoid  what 
may  be  manifestly  evil,  but  whatsoever  has  the  color 
and  appearance  of  evil.  Those  engaged  In  gathering  and 
directing  souls  to  God  must  conduct  themselves  like 
angels  among  men  and  like  men  among  boys.  They  must 
be  the  light  of  the  world,  the  beacons  situated  upon  moun- 
tain peaks;  and  for  being  thus  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  all 
they  must  be  the  bright  mark  and  guide  of  the  world." 
While  the  Father  Presidente  wrote:  "I  entreat  and  com- 
mend your  reverence  for  the  love  of  Jesus  Christ  that 
you  make  no  use  of  gig  or  coach  In  any  manner  under  any 
pretext  and  at  any  time  whatsoever,  and  If  there  be  any 
it  shall  be  burned  or  taken  apart  to  serve  some  other  suit- 
able purpose." 

But  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  here  was  one  very  faith- 
ful* worker  who  enjoyed  but  little  poverty  and  less 
humility. 

Living  In  regal  state.  Father  Luis  kept  in  his  retinue 
an  Indian  boy  whose  sole  duty  it  was  to  give  timely  warn- 
ing of  the  approach  of  the  venomous  ants  abounding  at 
this  mission.    But  despite  every  precaution  taken  by  the 


132  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

Indian,  the  Padre  was  often  bitten,  and  for  every  bite  the 
boy  received  five  lashes.  Later  this  same  boy  became 
chief  cook,  and  if  perchance  the  padre,  gourmandlzing 
on  the  good  things  of  the  table,  ended  with  a  stomach- 
ache, the  unlucky  chef  got  another  licking;  causing  him  to 
wonder — If  the  dull-witted  Indian  ever  stopped  to  wonder 
— on  the  mysterious  workings  of  Providence,  for  to  their 
minds  these  priests  were  the  special  messengers  of  the 
Deity. 

On  fete  days  Padre  Luis  always  traveled  by  carriage, 
an  odd  arrangement,  designed  by  himself  and  built  by 
the  Indian  mechanics  under  his  orders.  A  narrow  body 
just  wide  enough  for  one,  the  seat  stuffed  thick  with  wool 
to  make  up  for  the  absence  of  springs.  The  harness  was 
made  of  rawhide,  resplendent  with  gold  and  silver  trap- 
pings, from  which  hung  many  dangling  bells.  The  coach- 
man and  postillion  were  gorgeously  attired,  and  the  coach 
was  drawn  by  four  black  mules  on  which  sat  little  Indian 
lads,  preceded  by  a  horseman  who  guided  the  mules  with 
his  riata.  Behind  came  the  neophytes  walking  two  by 
two. 

Perfectly  human  when  one  stops  to  consider.  One 
man  for  years  was  in  sole  possession  of  a  kingly  territory, 
literally  monarch  of  all  he  might  survey,  with  thousands 
and  thousands  of  acres  under  his  domain,  and  hundreds 
of  willing  slaves  under  his  absolute  control. 

"Judge  not  that  ye  be  not  judged." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   COUNTRY  BEYOND   SAN   MIGUEL  AND  THE   CHRONICLE 
OF  OLD  SPANISH  LIFE  IN  AMERICA SAN  ANTONIO  DE  PADUA 

FROM  SAN  MIGUEL  TO  SAN  ANTONIO 

The  country  lying  between  San  Miguel  and  San 
Antonio  is  singularly  devoid  of  all  historic  interest,  leav- 
ing the  Saunterers  little  except  to  reflect,  as  Stevenson 
puts  it,  that  the  road  has  been  developed  out  of  tracks 
followed  by  primitive  wayfarers,  and  in  it  one  may  see 
an  expression  and  testimony  of  those  other  generations 
who  have  been  affected  by  the  same  ground,  in  the  same 
manner  as  we  are  aifected  to-day. 

May  the  gods  pity  them  if  they  were. 

All  through  this  Salinas  Valley  the  plain  is  steeped  in 
pitiless  sunlight,  and  the  scene  is  pitched  in  a  key  of  fiery 
color  that  makes  it  a  fitting  stage  for  the  quondam  snake 
dances  whose  story  the  "oldest  inhabitant"  with  tooth- 
less enthusiasm  mumbles  to  every  passerby: 

A  hundred  braves  with  painted  faces,  lining  up  in 
long  array,  would  pass  one  to  the  other  a  huge  basket  in 
which,  squirming  angrily,  lay  rattlesnakes,  collected  from 

133 


134  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

the  dusty  plains  thereabout.  Each  brave  seized  one  or 
two  of  these  loathsome  creatures,  holding  It  between  his 
teeth  or  In  outstretched  hands,  seemingly  unconcerned, 
as  Its  needle  fangs  darted  towards  his  face  and  arms. 
The  onlookers  waving  strips  of  red  were  all  the  while 
exciting  these  writhing  rattlers  to  further  attack.  When 
the  shouting  and  the  leaping  had  reached  Its  highest  pitch 
a  drum  beat  sounded,  the  sign  for  one  hundred  daggers 
of  flint  to  leap  from  out  as  many  belts;  each  dagger  with 
one  stroke  slit  the  rattlers  from  head  to  tail,  making  an 
opening  from  which  to  drag  out  the  still  throbbing  hearts, 
which  were  popped  Into  the  greedy  mouths  of  the  dancers, 
endowing  them  with  all  the  wisdom  of  serpents  for  a  year 
to  come. 

From  just  behind  Bradley  the  road  rolls  up  the  easy 
slopes  "like  a  long  ship  in  the  hollows  of  the  sea,"  and 
then,  as  though  rudderless,  wallows  to  the  summit  of  the 
earthy  waves.  To  quote  Stevenson  again,  even  though 
disagreeing,  "improvement  may  make  straight  roads, 
but  the  crooked  roads  without  improvement  are  the  roads 
of  genius." 

Just  about  here  it  was,  that  the  lands  of  San  Miguel 
formerly  joined  the  wide  acres  of  San  Antonio;  for  the 
missions  occupied  all  of  the  land  along  the  coast  except 
the  little  owned  by  the  presidios,  pueblos  and  a  few 
ranches  which  were  held  by  virtue  of  grants  from  the 
King  of  Spain,  and  they  objected  strenuously  to  any  other 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  135 

settlement.  It  is  told  how,  one  quiet  night  when  the 
moon  was  shining  brightly,  two  old  men  from  Spain  were 
discussing  with  the  priests  the  nature  of  the  moon,  and 
one  of  the  Spaniards,  asked  by  the  padre  for  his  opinion, 
coolly  remarked:  "Land  It  cannot  be.  Were  It  land, 
there  would  be  sheep  of  the  missions  up  there." 

The  valleys  below  are  flowered  by  fairy  fingers,  and  all 
the  rest  of  the  way  to  Mission  San  Antonio  the  scenery 
grows  constantly  more  beautiful.  The  hills  draw  slightly 
apart  and  In  the  opening,  away  In  the  distance.  Is  Santa 
Lucia,  the  highest  peak  In  the  range  of  the  same  name, 
hazy  blue  In  the  sunlight.  "Forming  part  of  the  view 
and  adding  the  human  touch  is  San  Antonio,  deserted, 
solitary,  fast  crumbling  away,  yet  belonging  to  the  scene 
still,  and  the  chief  element  of  Interest  In  It." 

Present-day  architects  can  find  nothing  more  deserv- 
ing in  Interest,  nothing  more  original  than  these  ruined 
remains  which  are  so  well  adapted  to  the  blue  skies  and 
lofty  mountains  in  California. 

SAN  ANTONIO  DE  PADUA 

The  original  pioneers  in  their  northward  wanderings, 
after  a  hard  climb  over  rough  and  rocky  roads,  came  to  a 
little  valley — a  depression  in  the  very  midst  of  the  moun- 
tains— ^which  they  called  La  Hoya  de  la  Siera  de  Santa 
Lucia.  Crespl,  the  diarist,  however,  because  the  day  was 
that  of  the  Impression  of  the  Wounds  of  Saint  Francis, 


136  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 
named  it  Las  Llagas,  and  Invoked  the  intercession  of  the 
seraphic  saint,  consecrating  its  name  with  those  of  his 
stigmata — the  miraculous  infliction  of  the  five  wounds  of 
Christ  which  St.  Francis  carried  to  his  death. 

Here  was  so  pleasant  a  place  that  long  afterwards  the 
travelers  talked  of  it  as  one  speaks  of  an  oasis  in  the 
desert,  and  the  keen  eye  of  that  Franciscan  Crespi  took 
for  future  reference  a  careful  note  of  the  black  soil,  so  well 
fitted  for  grain  and  fruit  orchards.  Hence  it  came  about, 
so  says  Hittell  the  historian,  that  a  beautiful  day  in  mid- 
July  in  1771  found  Junipero  Serra  hanging  bells  to  the 
branch  of  a  tree  on  this  very  spot.  Once  hung  he  struck 
them  with  great  vigor,  crying  out  in  a  loud  voice:  "Come, 
oh  ye  Gentiles,  come  to  the  Holy  Church!"  Father 
Payeres,  his  assistant,  standing  by  asked:  "Why  all  this 
ado?  There  are  no  Gentiles  within  hearing.  It  is  useless 
to  ring  the  bells."  Junipero  replied:  "Let  me  alone!" 
and  he  kept  on  ringing  with  all  his  might,  calling  the 
dwellers  in  the  wilderness  to  the  new  life  promised  in  the 
Scriptures.  When  he  had  wearied  his  muscles  and  some- 
what cooled  his  enthusiasm,  he  turned  to  the  foundation 
of  the  mission  and  dedicated  it  to  San  Antonio  de  Padua. 

This  Saint  Anthony  was  afilicted  just  as  the  earlier 
and  even  more  famous  saint  of  the  same  name.  Women 
followed  him  everywhere,  and  when  one  tried  to  tempt  him 
he  threw  himself  upon  a  pile  of  burning  faggots  saying: 
"Here   is   my   bed:   come   and   lie  upon   it!"     Women 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  137 
thronged  the  church  whenever  he  preached,  and  great 
ladies  who  usually  were  abed  till  noon  would  rise  in  the 
early  morning  just  to  be  certain  of  hearing  his  miraculous 
voice.  But  did  they  only  know  it,  neither  walls  of  stone 
nor  leagues  of  distance  could  stay  its  penetrating  power. 
One  woman,  forbidden  by  her  jealous  husband  from  at- 
tending the  church  where  St.  Anthony  preached,  retired 
to  her  sitting  room  and  threw  open  the  outer  window,  and 
no  sooner  had  she  done  so  than  the  walls,  acting  as 
sounding  boards,  echoed  every  word  of  the  famous  saint 
who  was  preaching  at  some  far-away  cathedral. 

Thanks  to  a  now  more  or  less  systematized  building 
plan,  it  was  not  long  before  everything  was  in  readiness. 
Besides  the  church,  which  was  always  the  one  grand  and 
prominent  feature,  there  were  dwellings  for  the  padres, 
barracks  for  the  soldiers,  storehouses  and  workshops — 
all  arcaded  like  the  old  cloisters  of  Spain,  and  as  usual 
built  around  a  large  hollow  square,  each  building  acces- 
sible from  the  interior;  though  one  or  two  large  door- 
ways, called  portones,  gave  entrance  from  the  outside. 
The  house  of  the  padre  was  next  to  the  church  and  like 
it,  fronted  outwards,  but  the  work  shops  of  the  tile 
makers,  the  tallow  melters,  the  pigeon  tenders,  deer 
hunters,  shepherd's,  singers  and  wine-pressers  opened 
only  into  the  interior,  enabling  the  padre  to  keep  better 
control  over  them. 
.    San  Antonio  was  famed  far  and  wide  for  its  orchestra, 


138  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

taught  by  the  good  Padre  Sancho,  who  not  only  wrote  the 
music,  each  part  in  a  color  distinct  from  the  other,  but 
the  words  of  the  hymns  he  wrote  as  well,  couched  in 
churchly  Latin.  The  orchestra  consisted  of  a  drum,  a 
triangle,  a  violin,  a  base-viol  and  a  flute,  and  over  each 
of  these  players  Father  Sancho  labored  for  long  weary 
weeks  and  months.  Of  course  many  of  the  neophytes 
could  never  grasp  the  elements  of  music,  but  even  the 
worst  of  them,  in  the  solemn  chants  of  the  mass,  were 
always  absorbed  heart  and  soul,  and  seemed  to  believe, 
strangely  enough,  that  they  were  as  proficient  as  the  best. 
An  Indian  wife  summoned  her  husband  before  the  Padre 
Sancho  for  having  serenaded  another  woman. 

"Bring  forth  the  culprit,"  said  the  padre,  "and  let  him 
play  for  us  as  he  played  for  the  woman  he  wished  to 
captivate." 

When  this  was  done  the  padre  asked:  "Is  that  the 
tune  you  played.^" 

"Si,  Senor." 

"Is  that  the  best  you  can  play  it?" 

"Si,  Senor." 

"Then  I  sentence  you  to  five  lashes  for  disturbing  the 
peace." 

Tucked  away  in  a  loop  of  the  river,  giving  unfailing 
water  and  protected  by  a  background  of  grizzly  moun- 
tains, opening  the  land  only  to  the  rays  of  the  sun,  this 
beautiful  San  Antonio  valley  smiled  with  ever-abundant 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  139 
harvests.  The  cultivated  fields  spread  out  so  far  that  it 
was  found  necessary  to  build  atop  the  mission  roof  look- 
out stations,  in  which  day  and  night  stood  Indian  boys 
watching  over  the  valley.  No  one  could  approach  with- 
out being  seen  by  those  keen-eyed  savages,  and  long 
before  their  arrival  messages  of  warning  could  be  wig- 
wagged to  the  distant  workers.  So  fruitful  was  this 
valley  that  for  long  it  has  been  known  as  Milpitas,  Little 
Vegetable  Garden,  even  by  the  unimaginative  "greasers" 
who,  buying  nothing  but  fat  and  tallow  from  the  mis- 
sions, gained  that  lasting  nickname.  Descendants  of 
those  early  "greasers"  still  live  hereabout.  The  old 
mother  of  one  was  the  first  American  woman  here  and 
the  only  white  woman  for  more  than  a  year.  She  had  to 
live  at  the  mission  for  protection,  and  all  during  that  fear- 
ful smallpox  epidemic  which  carried  ofit  nine-tenths  of  the 
natives  she  stayed  shut  up  behind  an  iron-girded  window, 
her  daily  amusement,  watching  the  corpses  being  carried 
by.  To  make  matters  worse,  no  one  spoke  English — 
not  even  the  priest,  who  was  a  Mexican  Indian,  so  that 
she  had  to  make  her  wants  known  by  signs,  which,  dlfii- 
cult  and  often  ridiculous,  brought  the  only  gaiety  Into 
that,  year  of  trouble.  Once  needing  eggs  she  tells  how 
she  was  forced  to  search  for  a  stone  that  looked  like  an 
egg,  place  it  on  the  ground,  and  sit  atop  It,  suddenly 
jumping  up  and  cackling  like  a  hen. 

This  Mexican  padre  spent  most  of  his  time  civilizing 


140  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

wild  bees,  showing  a  truer  knowledge  of  bee  life  than 
even  our  Maeterlinck  and  Fabre.  The  records  state  that 
he  was  much  beloved  by  all  the  little  Indian  boys  and 
girls.     Could  it  have  been  the  honey? 

Gone  are  the  cattle,  destroyed  are  the  vines.  The  cor- 
ridor arches  are  still  standing,  to  be  sure,  though  back  of 
them  lie  the  rafters  just  where  they  fell  amidst  fiery- 
hued  bushes,  and  many  of  the  roofing  tiles  have  been  re- 
moved to  make  coverings  for  neighboring  houses.  The 
incense  trees  used  for  holy  water,  the  flour  mill,  the  tan- 
nery and  the  wine-press  are  still  in  evidence,  and  even 
now,  with  the  sun  tinting  those  ruins  with  its  kaleido- 
scope of  colors,  it  remains  an  inspiration,  though  as  our 
old  greaser  friend  says,  "it  makes  one  kind  o'  lonesome 
just  t'  look  at  it." 

Unfortunately  San  Antonio  has  been  side-tracked  by 
the  railroads  of  California.  Far  from  any  traveled  route, 
it  is  too  sparsely  settled  to  support  a  church,  so  the  rain 
and  the  sun  are  allowed  to  take  their  deadly  toll.  Would 
that  the  patron  saint  of  this  mission,  who  is  always 
invoked  by  devout  travelers  for  the  recovery  of  whatever 
has  been  lost,  would  listen  to  the  cry  of  all  who  supplicate 
for  the  restoration  of  the  beauty  that  once  was  here. 

To  teach  temperance  and  keep  the  world  sober  while 
manufacturing  rum  at  a  good  profit  must  have  been 
something  of  a  problem  to  the  old  padres;  but  other  days, 
other  customs,  remember — and  we  are  writing  of  1818. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  141 

In  those  days  when'the  missions  were  appealed  to  for 
financial  aid  to  help  out  some  failing  religious  enterprise, 
as  like  as  not  they  would  send  as  their  subscription  a  dozen 
barrels  of  rum.  It  is  officially  recorded  at  Los  Angeles 
that,  in  1821,  when  work  on  the  plaza  church  stopped  for 
lack  of  funds,  the  Mission  San  Gabriel  came  splendidly 
to  the  rescue  with  a  generous  contribution  of  aguardiente, 
and  that  the  conversion  of  this  liquor  Into  money,  drink 
by  drink,  was  accomplished  with  such  enthusiastic  co- 
operation on  the  part  of  all  the  citizens  of  Los  Angeles, 
that  they  were  able  to  dedicate  the  church  early  in  1822. 

Most  of  the  missions  manufactured  aguardiente  from 
apples  or  pears,  San  Fernando  acquiring  the  greatest 
reputation  in  this  cheering  industry.  They  doubly  dis- 
tilled it,  and  when  bottled  it  was  as  clear  as  crystal  and 
"as  strong  as  the  faith  of  the  reverend  Fathers." 

To  the  honor  of  the  padres  they  took  every  possible 
precaution  that  the  Indians  should  have  no  access  to  this 
firewater,  and  more  successful  in  this,  generally,  even 
when  absent  from  the  mission.  But  to  forbid  so  often 
means  to  cause  to  desire,  and  then  as  now,  there  were 
many  to  pander  to  curiosity.  Empty  brandy  kegs  would 
be  filled  with  water,  to  which  v/as  added  burnt  sugar  for 
color  and  ground  chilli  for  spice.  When  sold  to  the 
Indians  as  brandy,  if  they  complained  that  there  was  "no 
happiness  in  it,"  the  answer  would  be  that  it  was  so  old 
that  it  had  lost  its  strength. 

At  the  Mission  San  Antonio  the  making  of  good  wine 


142  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

was  long  the  most  Important  industry,  the  padres  be- 
lieving, with  lago,  that  good  wine  is  a  good  familiar  crea- 
ture if  it  be  well  used.  About  eleven  in  the  morning, 
having  broken  their  fast  immediately  after  mass  with 
only  a  cup  of  chocolate,  these  padres  would  take  a  small 
glass  of  brandy  with  a  bit  of  cheese  ''^ para  hacer  boca.^^ 
Later  they  would  wash  down  their  noon-day  dinner, 
usually  of  beef  or  mutton  and  beans  or  lentils,  with  a 
generous  potion  of  rich  red  wine.  And  wine  with  choco- 
late and  biscuit  for  supper  completed  their  regular  daily 
fare. 

The  process  of  wine  manufacture  was  simplicity  itself. 
A  raised  platform  was  built  on  any  convenient  ground  and 
covered  with  well-cured  clean  hides,  upon  which  the  ripe 
grapes  were  piled.  Then  three  or  four  Indians  would  be 
given  a  thorough  scrubbing,  their  hair  carefully  tied  up 
and  covered,  their  hands  wrapt  in  cloth  with  which  to 
wipe  away  the  "sweat  of  their  brow."  Each  with  a  stick 
in  hand  to  steady  himself,  they  were  put  to  treading  out 
the  grape  juice  which  would  be  caught  in  leather  bags  tied 
to  the  platform  sides.  This  was  emptied  into  large 
wooden  tubs  where  the  liquid  was  kept  for  several  months 
under  cover  of  the  grape  skins,  to  ferment. 

Those  were  happy  days. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MORE     DANGEROUS     ROAD     AND     A     SUGGESTION     OF     THE 

SOLITUDE    OF    SOLEDAD    WITH    THE    FICTION    OF    THE 

PEARLS  OF  LORETTO 

The  way  from  San  Antonio  makes  a  most  propitious 
start  through  a  peaceful,  beautiful  country  of  gently- 
rolling  land  covered  with  great  live  oaks  up  which  has 
crept  a  festoon  of  Spanish  moss.  It  is  still  the  sun- 
kissed  valley  lying  at  the  feet  of  the  snow-capped  Santa 
Lucia  and  the  stilleto-pointed  peak  which  gives  name  to 
the  range  is  always  visible  to  any  backward  glance. 
It  recalled  to  the  memory  of  the  early  travelers  that 
spike  of  rock  on  which  Maiden  Lucia  in  the  First  Century 
of  our  epoch  met  martyrdom.     Hence  its  name. 

Golden  grain  fields  soon  give  way  to  knotted  chaparral, 
thirsty-looking  sage,  bright-berried  cascara  and  sweet- 
smelling  yerba;  and  as  the  road  wriggles  over  the  summit 
of  the  Jolon  grade  the  air  grows  cooler. 

Rapidly  down  hill  goes  the  road  over  the  rocky  bed 
of  a  branch  of  the  Salinas  River,  a  roaring  torrent  when 
flushed   with   the   rains   of  winter,    now   arid-dry,    "the 

143 


144  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

water  all  sucked  into  the  sands  of  humility."  Here  is 
Thomson's  Gulch,  famous  as  the  favorite  place  for  stage 
robberies.  And  not  "all  bad"  were  these  picturesque 
ruffians.  It  is  told  that  a  traveler  who  was  riding  one 
afternoon  along  this  very  mountain  road  leading  to  the 
valley  and  happy,  maybe,  with  the  thought  of  home, 
was  cheerfully  whistling  "The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me," 
when  suddenly  he  heard  the  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs. 
Turning,  he  saw  three  horsemen  galloping  rapidly  after 
him,  one  of  whom  yelled  to  him  to  stop.  Realizing  the 
character  of  the  invitation,  the  traveler  put  spurs  to  his 
horse  but  a  shot  from  his  pursuers  struck  him  in  the  leg 
and  brought  him  down.  Once  relieved  of  his  money, 
instead  of  being  despatched  with  a  knife  or  left  to  die  of 
a  hemorrhage,  tl.i  bandit-doctor  proceeded  skilfully  and 
tenderly  to  take  up  the  severed  artery  and  bind  the 
wound.  Just  as  he  was  finishing  he  heard  a  passing 
wagon  and  directed  one  of  his  men  to  "wait  upon"  the 
teamster.  This  was  promptly  done  and  the  astonished 
teamster  in  turn  was  relieved  of  his  money.  A  bed  was 
then  hastily  made  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon,  the 
wounded  man  placed  upon  it  and  the  driver  told  that 
his  life  was  at  stake  if  he  didn't  drive  at  once  to  the 
nearest  town  and  drive  slowly  and  avoid  the  ruts. 

Such  were  the  bandits  of  the  old  days. 

Curiously    enough,    to-day    as    the    Saunterers    roll 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  145 

through  this  rocky  defile  there  Is  to  be  seen  a  rickety 
sign  bearing  the  single  word  "Danger." 

It  is  still  along  the  river,  and  in  the  ever-widening 
valley,  with  its  little  town  of  "Greenfield";  especially 
in  contrast  to  the  brown  level  plateau  beyond,  over 
which  the  wind  cuts  like  a  whip.  It  seems  to  be  always 
blowing  on  this  stretch.  Indeed,  this  has  so  passed  into 
the  speech  of  the  inhabitants  that  their  morning  salu- 
tation is  invariably:  "How  are  you — breezy,  isn't  it?" 
So  level  is  it  here  that  the  whole  way  lies  open  before  you. 
*'If  there  is  changed  to  here,  all  is  afterwards  as  It  was 
before."  Nothing  Is  left  to  fancy  and  there  is  nothing 
to  see  except  unhomely-looking  homesteads. 

This  Is  Soledad  which  a  would-be  humorist  describes 
as  lacking  nothing  but  water  and  good  society.  Local 
tradition  has  it  that  water  was  so  scarce  that  they  had 
to  drink  whiskey  instead.  The  usual  traveler  knows 
it  as  the  town  of  Vancouver's  Pinnacles,  named  in  honor 
of  the  English  explorer,  who  described  them  as  being  the 
first  of  California's  natural  wonders.  They  are  pic- 
turesque masses  covering  six  square  miles  of  wild  coun- 
try that  have  been  sculptured  by  erosion.  Rocks  of 
various  sizes  and  an  Innumerable  variety  of  shapes,  range 
from  a  few  yards  In  height  to  hundreds  of  feet,  their 
sides  presenting  no  foot-hold  for  man's  ascent;  upon 
their  spires  and  dome-like  tops  none  but  winged  creatures 
have  ever  rested! 


146  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

But  for  the  Saunterers  Soledad  Is  only  the  name  of 
a  mission  town. 

SOLEDAD 

This  wide,  treeless  valley  of  Soledad  received  its 
name  of  Solitude  on  Crespi's  first  visit,  seemingly  in  his 
eyes  the  gloomiest,  bleakest  spot  yet  seen,  though  he 
notes  in  his  diary  that  the  soldier  guards,  rationed  that 
evening  with  some  of  Spain's  delicious  chocolate,  gave  it 
the  more  cheerful  name  El  real  de  chocolat — the  Camp  of 
Chocolate. 

However,  it  was  not  until  October  9,  1791,  that 
Nuestra  Senora  Dolorlsima  de  la  Soledad  was  officially 
founded  on  this  "Devil's  Frontier."  The  same  sweet, 
simple  ceremonies  were  used  as  at  all  foundations,  and 
were  carried  through  with  the  same  steadfast  faith  and 
the  same  joyful  expectancy.  Yet  what  could  be  more 
mournful  than  the  early  Fathers'  conception  of  our  Lady 
of  Solitude;  for  the  Virgin  Mary,  after  her  Son's  ascen- 
sion, is  in  their  minds  always  draped  in  black  with  a 
sword  in  her  heart — the  one  symbolical  of  her  desolation, 
and  the  other  of  the  sorrow  which  has  pierced  her  soul. 

For  some  unrecorded  reason,  possibly  a  premonition 
of  the  short  life  this  mission  was  to  enjoy,  Soledad  never 
got  beyond  the  adobe  stage.  It  may  be  because  all  the 
time  and  all  the  labor  were  both  needed  to  get  a  sufficient 
supply  of  water  for  this  arid  land.     And  credit  must  be 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  147 

given  to  these  Franciscan  pioneers  who,  knowing  Httle 
of  engineering  problems,  and  having  at  their  call  only- 
unskilled  labor,  were  able  to  construct  an  aqueduct 
fifteen  miles  long,  bringing  sufficient  water  to  change 
20,000  barren  acres  into  rich  pasture  land. 

It  was  always  one  of  the  duties  of  the  resident  fathers 
to  keep  books  and  accounts  and  to  make  annual  returns 
to  the  mission  Presidente,  stating  not  only  the  number 
of  conversions,  baptisms,  births,  marriages  and  deaths, 
but  as  well  the  amount  of  stock  and  grain  produced  and 
the  value  of  it.  So  we  know  even  of  this  mission,  little 
recorded  in  history,  that  in  later  years  over  forty  thousand 
head  of  cattle  roamed  over  Its  plains  and  continued  to 
increase  so  plentifully  that  as  at  Purisima,  in  a  time  of 
draught  they  had  to  be  driven  into  the  bay  of  Monterey 
and  drowned. 

Soledad's  one  real  claim  to  fame,  however,  is  as  the 
burial  place  of  Governor  Arrillaga,  an  affable,  generous, 
kind-hearted  man,  most  popular  with  the  common 
soldiers  who  nicknamed  him  Papa,  and  equally  popular 
with  the  Gente  de  Razon  who  were  never  satisfied  with 
a  baptism  or  wedding  that  did  not  see  him  act  as  God- 
father or  groomsman. 

On  one  of  his  tours  of  inspection,  being  seized  with  a 
serious  illness,  he  hastened  to  put  himself  under  the  care 
of  his  old  friend.  Padre  Ibanez  at  Soledad,  and  there,  as 
the  records  state,  he  died  "a  most  edifying  death."     His 


148  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

body  was  Interred  In  the  center  of  the  church  in  accordance 
with  the  terms  of  his  testament,  clothed  in  the  habit 
of  Saint  Francis.  With  profound  faith  he  left  $600  to 
pay  for  600  masses  for  the  repose  of  his  soul,  to  which 
account  the  Historian  Hittell,  mentioning  it,  unsym- 
pathetically  adds  "600  masses  were  given  at  a  discount, 
as  the  court  records  show  that  only  3599  was  actually 
paid  by  the  estate." 

With  such  a  deep  religious  feeling  Arrillaga  was 
naturally  on  the  best  terms  with  the  priests,  especially 
so  with  Father  Ibanez  of  Soledad — himself  something 
of  a  character.  A  broad-shouldered,  corpulent,  unfriar- 
like  friar,  who  was  exiled  to  California  for  knocking  down 
a  Spanish  officer.  Whether  for  this  reason  or  not,  he 
never  extended  any  privileges  to  officers  visiting  Soledad, 
always  making  them  eat  the  same  food  as  the  neophytes 
got,  saying  that  the  officers  had  their  pay  and  must 
live  on  it,  and  the  neophytes  needed  for  themselves  all 
the  mission  produced.  In  contrast  he  made  repeated 
presents  to  the  common  soldiers,  all  of  whom  loved  him 
for  his  charity  and  at  all  times  he  was  notably  kind  to 
his  Indian  flock,  even  unto  death,  paying  their  humble 
remains  the  same  honors  as  those  of  the  wealthy. 

One  other  of  the  friars  comes  down  to  history,  thanks 
to  Robinson,  who  In  his  journey  spent  a  night  at  Soledad, 
and  writes  that  Padre  Sarria  was  a  pious  old  man  who 
poured  out  free  hospitality  to  all  comers.     His  charity, 


CALIFORNTAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  149 

goodness  and  bigness  of  character  were  proverbial  and 
to  know  the  old  Padre  was  a  privilege.  And  this  was  a 
man  wedded  to  Poverty — the  bride  of  his  youth. 

Secularization  had  an  easy  task  here;  for  the  rain 
and  the  sun  left  to  work  their  own  free  will,  showed 
themselves  pitiless,  beating  and  melting  the  muddy  walls 
into  a  shapeless,  unrecognizable  mass. 

There  was  not  an  Indian  left.  The  care  and  discipline 
of  the  Fathers  being  withdrawn,  they  also  rapidly  melted 
away.  Take  from  the  prairies  hardy  wild  cattle,  confine, 
feed  and  fatten  them  and  they  are  the  first  to  fall  before 
some  disease.  A  civilized  horse  would  kill  a  dozen  of 
the  untamed  kind  at  plowing,  whereas  free,  the  wild 
horse  would  soon  run  the  tame  one  to  death.  So  it 
was  with  the  Indians. 

PEARLS    OF    LORETTO 

Wedded  to  Poverty,  accepting  with  their  vows  the 
life  and  example  of  Christ  which  provided  "neither 
gold,  nor  silver,  nor  brass  for  your  purse,  nor  script  for 
your  journey,"  any  idea  of  enriching  themselves  could 
never  for  a  moment  have  entered  the  thoughts  of  those 
early  Franciscan  friars,  but  It  didn't  prevent  the  laying 
up  of  treasures  In  heaven  and  they  were  forever  seeking 
to  enrich  the  church.  Once  Mother  Earth  had  given 
of  her  abundant  wealth  the  Franciscans  searched  the 
sea,   and   after   sunrise  almost  any  day  you   might  see 


150  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

native  divers,  in  charge  of  a  mission  major-domo,  hard 
at  work.  Two  by  two  on  frail  rafts  of  tule  they  would 
paddle  out  to  the  oyster  beds  where  one  of  the  two  would 
drop  overboard,  having  attached  to  his  waist  a  long 
cord  that  was  also  tied  to  the  raft.  Here  the  diver 
would  labor,  a  minute  under  water  and  a  minute  of  rest, 
until  exhaustion  forced  him  to  become  the  watcher. 
As  soon  as  the  pearl  oysters  were  brought  to  the  shore 
they  were  divided  into  four  heaps,  one  going  to  the 
diver,  one  to  the  government  and  the  rest  to  the  mission 
fathers,  who,  carefully  selecting  the  most  beautiful  of 
the  pearls,  had  them  convoyed  under  soldier  guard  to 
the  mother-mission  at  Loretto  where  they  were  to  adorn 
the  robe  of  the  Madonna. 

This  was  the  golden  age  in  California  when  life  was 
one  happy  holiday,  when  there  was  little  labor,  little  care 
and  little  trouble — a  time  of  pastoral  sensuousness,  a 
time  when  the  idle  fair  ones  worshipped  luxury,  of  these 
last  the  fairest  of  all  the  fair  and  the  maddest  devotee 
of  glittering  splendor  was  Ysabel  Herrera.  To  all  her 
countless  suitors  entreating  her  in  marriage,  she  gave 
the  same  answer:  "I  will  only  marry  the  man  who  can 
fill  my  lap  with  pearls." 

One  night  at  a  Cascarone  ball,  given  at  the  home  of 
the  commandante,  Ysabel  broke  her  egg-shell  of  cologne 
on  the  head  of  a  handsome  stranger  and  got  kissed  by  way 
of  retaliation.     Before  the  evening  was  half  over  De  la 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  151 

Vega,  with  the  impatient  fervor  of  the  Spaniard  In  love 
at  first  sight,  found  a  chance  to  whisper  in  her  ear,  half- 
hidden  by  a  big  red  rose  nestling  in  the  softly  twisted 
hair. 

"  Te  amo  si  te  amo  de  veras. 

No  puedo  mas  ocultaro, 

Para  que  mi  bien  collarlo^ 

Si  conociendolo  estas.''^ 
Flattered  and  tempted,  she  nevertheless  answered 
him  just  as  she  had  answered  all  the  others:  "I  will 
only  marry  the  man  who  fills  my  lap  with  pearls." 
"Then  you  marry  me,"  was  his  reply,  "for  I  will  give 
you  such  pearls  as  no  queen  on  earth  possesses."  On 
her  promise  to  wait  he  left  the  room.  Going  at  once  to 
his  quarters  he  aroused  his  Indian  servant,  ordering  him 
to  saddle  four  horses  and  within  an  hour  he  and  the 
Indl'an  were  riding  at  full  speed  toward  San  Diego, 
jumping  from  horse  to  horse  as  each  of  them  gave  signs 
of  tiring,  never  stopping  until  the  mission  spires  of  the 
southern  city  were  sighted.  From  there  on  foot  they 
struck  down  the  shore  only  to  be  confronted  by  the 
impassible  spurs  of  the  coast  range,  and  forced  to  toil 
back  into  the  labyrinth  of  mesas  and  rocky  plain.  Hem- 
med in  by  the  mountains  they  would  spend  days  scout- 
ing for  a  pass  and  then  would  come  out  on  great  tracts 
of  Impenetrable  cactus  thickets  through  which  they 
were  obliged  to  hew  a  pathway  with  axes.     Physically 


152  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

spent  and  in  rags  De  la  Vega  at  last  reached  San  Dio- 
nisio  Bay,  where  overlooking  the  quiet  waters  stood  the 
famous  Loretto  Mission. 

An  easy  matter  for  this  Machiavellian  Spaniard  to 
win  the  confidence  of  the  simple-minded  mission  fathers 
to  whom  with  tearful  eye  he  told  how  he  had  made  this 
venturesome  journey  in  penance  and  expiation  of  a 
sinful  life.  This  exhibition  of  deep  religious  feeling  was 
strengthened  day  by  day  as  the  holy  fathers  saw  the 
long  hours  he  spent  kneeling  before  the  Virgin.  So  they 
gladly  gave  permission  to  spend  the  night  in  prayer  at 
the  grotto  of  the  Saint. 

The  church  was  dark  except  for  the  flickering  flames 
in  cups  of  oil  placed  at  the  feet  of  St.  Loretto.  The  light 
centered  on  the  beautiful  figure  which,  dimpled  and 
smiling,  fair  of  skin  and  hair,  was  everything  that  was 
ideal  and  adorable  to  the  dusky  ignorant  savages. 
Pricelsss  pearls  were  scattered  through  the  luxuriant  hair; 
arms,  neck  and  waist  were  entwined  with  ropes  of  these 
same  sea  treasures  and  her  very  gown  was  hidden  in  a 
blanket  of  jewels. 

Left  alone,  De  la  Vega  hurriedly  stripped  the  sacred 
image  of  its  uncounted  wealth  and  fled  into  the  darkness 
of  the  night. 

So  long  had  he  been  gone  that  Ysabel  mourned  him 
as  dead  and  could  scarcely  believe  her  senses  when,  one 
late  afternoon,  De  la  Vega  stepped  into  the  patio  where 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  153 

she  was  seated,  and  without  a  word  poured  Into  her  lap 
an  overflowing  pile  of  the  most  lustrous  pearls  ever  seen 
by  mortal  eyes. 

That  same  night  Ysabel  appeared  at  the  Custom 
House  ball  wreathed  in  pearls — pearls  everywhere; 
they  glistened  in  her  hair,  roped  her  neck  and  arms, 
festooned  her  bodice  and  twined  in  hanging  loops  about 
her  skirt.  Naturally  all  the  women  crowded  about  her 
in  admiration  and  envy,  all  the  men  with  regret;  for  they 
understood  that  at  last  her  wish  had  been  realized  and 
that  to  them  she  was  lost.  But  so  marvellously  beautiful 
was  Ysabel  in  her  new  happiness  that  when  called  upon 
to  dance  the  el  son,  all  the  young  men  in  sign  of  forgive- 
ness piled  their  hats  on  her  head  until  the  headdress  was 
taller  than  the  wearer. 

As  the  grey  light  of  dawn  began  to  streak  into  the 
room,  just  as  the  fun  was  at  its  highest,  a  travel-stained 
priest  appeared,  and  rushing  up  to  De  la  Vega,  accused 
him  of  vile  sacrilege.  In  the  excitement  that  followed,  De 
la  Vega  was  able  to  seize  his  sweetheart  and  escape  from 
the  dance.  Running  with  her  to  the  cliff,  he  was  about 
to  leap  into  the  waters  below  and  swim  to  the  safety  of 
the  vessel  anchored  In  the  outside  harbor,  when  a  shot 
from  the  pursuing  mob  brought  him  to  the  ground. 
Ysabel,  made  strong  by  love,  lifted  him  in  her  arms  and 
sprang  from  the  rocks. 

The  waters  of  the  bay  covered  them  forever. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

TO  MONTEREY — ^IN  DEATH  AS  IN  LIFE,  THE  HOME  OF  THE 
SAINTED    FATHER   JUNIPERO    SERRA 

A  CONSTANT,  persistent  breeze — the  sort  that  "sets 
trees  talking" — sweeps  the  highway  out  of  Soledad, 
raising  clouds  of  dust  that  lazily  serpentine  to  the  quieter 
strata  above. 

The  miracle  of  water  has  metamorphosed  this  once 
arid,  treeless  valley  of  which  a  delver  into  ancient  Indian 
myths  writes  a  pretty  tale:  An  immense  force  of  hill 
savages  attacked  a  Christian  Indian  village  near  Soledad, 
but  during  the  night  the  Mission  Indians  had  retired  to 
the  top  of  the  mesa  behind  the  village,  where  they  could 
the  better  endure  a  siege,  for  it  is  easier  to  shoot  down 
than  up,  and  rocks  could  be  rolled  upon  the  enemy 
when  they  ventured  close.  The  attacking  force  made 
little  progress  under  those  conditions,  so  they  surrounded 
the  mesa  just  out  of  bow-reach  and  set  a  guard  to  keep 
the  Christian  Indians  from  descending  to  get  food  or 
drink.  The  Christians  had  carried  up  supplies  of  both, 
but   while   the   food   gave   promise   of  holding   out   for 

154 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  155 
two  or  three  weeks,  the  water  jars  were  soon  empty. 
Then  one  of  the  padres  who  was  with  them,  took  a  scrap 
of  paper  on  which  he  wrote  something  with  a  stick  of 
charcoal,  placing  it  under  a  stone  and  praying  over  it. 
On  taking  it  up,  writing  had  appeared  on  the  other  side, 
apparently  telling  him  what  to  do,  for  he  called  for  a 
sharp  splinter  of  obsidian  or  volcanic  glass,  such  as  the 
people  used  for  knives  and  spear-heads,  and  with  it  he 
cut  his  arm.  Water  began  to  run  from  the  gash — clear, 
refreshing — the  parched  company  gathered  and  drank 
and  drank,  yet  still  the  water  flowed.  They  brought 
their  jars  and  gourds  and  filled  them.  Four  or  five  days 
later,-when  the  supply  was  gone  the  miracle  was  repeated* 
At  last,  believing  that  the  Christians  must  have  inex- 
haustible resources  and  that  further  operations  against 
them  would  be  fruitless,  the  wild  tribes  gave  up  the  siege 
and  went  back  to  their  homes.  Then  the  neophytes 
silently  descended  the  cralg,  awed  by  the  miracle  which 
had  saved  them  and  was  later  to  save  the  country  from 
centuries  of  drought. 

Since  the  miracle  of  water  this  valley  has  been  pre- 
emptied  by  the  Swiss,  whose  wide-range  lands  stocked 
with  dairy  cattle  are  flowing  with  cheese  and  butter. 
Almost  an  entire  Swiss  canton  was  depopulated  by  the 
adventurous  spirits  who  responded  to  the  call  of  this 
far-distant  land  of  fortune.  Most  of  them  came  from 
forebears  desperately  poor,  and  only  by  painful  economies 


156  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

did  they  finance  the  long  voyage  to  CaHfornia.  DiHgent 
and  shrewd,  with  no  false  idea  of  race  suicide,  they  have 
made  this  bit  of  country  their  own. 

The  Salinas  Valley  is  entered  some  twenty  miles  from 
Soledad,  taking  its  name  from  the  many  saline  lakes  that 
lurk  in  the  rich  bottomland.  It  is  the  paradise  of  sheep, 
for  they  daily  fatten  on  the  briny  lush  grass — a  paradise 
when  they  were  brought  to  dispel  nudity  which  was 
thought  incompatible  with  right  living.  So  primitive 
looms  were  constructed,  and  the  Indians  clothed  as  the 
first  essential  to  Christianity.  To  such  advocates  of 
nakedness  as  the  Indians,  that  first  initiation  into  rough 
woolen  weaves  must  have  been  only  comparable  to  our 
first  week  of  Winter's  red  flannels. 

The  city  of  Salinas  planted  in  the  middle  of  this  bald 
plain,  is  the  turn  in  the  road  to  San  Carlos.  Happily 
its  blatant  Twentieth  Centuryism  has  not  been  able  to 
entirely  erase  all  of  Spain's  romantic  fingermarks.  One 
of  the  lagoons  nearby  is  still  called  Graciosa,  named  in 
ridicule  of  one  of  Portola's  soldiers  who,  with  southern 
extravagance,  called  it  an  elegant  sheet  of  water.  And 
then  there  is  still  Las  Pulgas,  commemorating  the  visit 
to  the  Salinas  Indian  village,  where  the  visitors  were 
welcomed  by  a  horde  of  exceptionally  active  fleas — ^just 
a  couple  of  the  early  landmarks,  barely  enough  to  leaven 
the  commercial  crust  now  covering  this  once  care-free 
country  where  everything  glowed  "in  the  sunset  of  the 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  157 

day  before  yesterday,  and  with  the  dawn  of  the  day  after 
to-morrow." 

The  modern  note  is  forcibly  struck  by  huge  beet- 
sugar  refineries  which,  as  the  village  humorist  puts  it, 
"Spreckle"  the  entire  country,  almost  into  Monterey. 
But  after  a  while  the  road  runs  down  to  a  rough,  spotty 
undergrowth,  thick  with  crouching  live  oaks  and  Spanish- 
bearded  pines,  where  the  ocean  waves  break  eternally, 
wave  after  wave,  every  moment  one. 

It  is  a  fit  setting  for  the  Mission  San  Carlos  Bor- 
romeo. 

SAN  CARLOS  BORROMEO  DEL  CARMELO  DE  MONTEREY 

It  was  the  Conte  de  Monterey,  viceroy  of  Spain, 
who  in  1602  outfitted  Viscaino  for  his  first  voyage  of 
discovery,  and  in  recompense  was  rewarded  by  having 
"that  sapphire  bay  and  golden  crested  beach" — the 
Monterey  of  to-day — named  in  his  honor. 

More  than  one  hundred  and  sixty  years  later,  im- 
mediately after  the  foundation  of  San  Diego,  Don  Caspar 
de  Portola,  by  royal  command,  started  out  to  rediscover 
this  much  famed  Monterey,  but  owing  to  the  meager 
description  left  by  Viscaino,  he  failed  to  recognize  it, 
even  though  actually  raising  a  cross  on  the  bay's  "  Silvery 
sands,"  marking  the  cross:  ^' Escarbe  al  pie  y  hallaras 
un  escrito^^ — ("Dig  at  the  foot  and  you  will  find  a  writ- 
ing")— and  they  buried  a  brief  account  of  the  expedition, 


158  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

closing  with  a  prayer  to  God  the  All-powerful,  to  guide 
them  on  their  way  and  conduct  the  navigator,  whoever 
he  might  be  that  should  find  the  paper,  to  the  port  of 
salvation.  Quite  disheartened  and  chagrined  at  their 
apparent  failure,  the  expedition  found  its  weary  way 
back  to  San  Diego  where  all  but  sturdy  Padre  Serra  were 
bent  upon  abandoning  the  enterprise  and  returning  to 
Mexico.  But  again  aroused  by  Serra's  enthusiasm  and 
religious  zeal,  a  second  expedition  was  equipped  and  in 
course  of  time  arrived  at  Punta  de  Pinos,  near  which  a 
cross  had  been  erected  the  preceding  year.  Father 
Palou  writes  that  upon  approaching  this  cross  they 
found  it  surrounded  with  arrows  and  feathers,  and  hung 
with  a  sardine  and  other  pieces  of  flesh.  It  seems  the 
Indians  noticed  that  the  Spaniards  always  carried  on 
their  bosom  a  radiant  cross,  and  when  they  beheld  this 
same  symbol,  erected  upon  the  beach,  it  seemed  to  shine 
with  fiery  splendour  and,  as  they  looked,  to  grow  in 
size  until  it  filled  the  whole  heaven.  Afraid  at  first  to 
approach  it,  they  finally  drew  near  and  made  offerings 
of  flesh  and  fish.  Then  seeing  these  were  not  eaten,  they 
planted  arrows  and  feathers  to  show  they  desired  peace 
with  this  wondrous  image  and  those  who  had  planted 
it  there. 

It  was  immediately  and  miraculously  revealed  to 
Father  Junipero  that  this  was  the  same  beautiful  port  of 
Monterey  discovered  in  1602,  and  it  was  even  given  him 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  159 
to  discover  the  wide-spreading  oak  whose  branches  still 
kissed  the  white-capped  waves  at  high  tide,  under  whose 
boughs  mass  had  been  celebrated  as  related  in  Viscaino's 
journal:  "And  we  set  up  a  chapel  under  an  immense 
oak  tree  whose  spreading  branches  overhung  the  beach." 
Beneath  the  grateful  shade  of  this  same  tree  mass  was 
again  celebrated,  the  water  blessed,  and  the  joyous  Te 
Deum  chanted.  And  when  the  low  murmurlngs  of  the 
praying  padres  had  ceased,  Caspar  de  Portola  stepped 
into  the  midst  of  the  assembly  and  amid  the  boom  of 
cannon  took  formal  possession  of  the  port  in  the  name 
of  God  and  the  King. 

This  first  rough  booth  of  branches  erected  under 
Viscaino's  oak  was  transformed  into  a  temporary  church 
and  consecrated,  but  Father  Serra  soon  discovered  that 
there  was  no  soil  suitable  for  cultivation,  and  he  decided 
to  move  to  the  Carmel  River,  which,  also,  owed  its 
name  to  Viscaino  who  christened  the  river  in  recognition 
of  the  self-sacrifice  of  the  three  barefoot  Carmelites  who 
accompanied  him,  and  to  serve  as  a  lasting  remembrance 
to  our  "Lady  of  the  Mount."  This  change  in  location 
has  caused  the  mission  to  be  often  known  as  San  Carlos 
del  Rio  Carmelo,  or  merely  Carmel  Mission,  though 
its  rightful  title  is  San  Carlos  Borromeo  del  Carmelo  de 
Monterey. 

San  Carlos  was  of  noble  parentage  and  so  able  to 
attend  the  aristocratic  university  of  Parma,  which  at  the 


160  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

time  was  notorious  for  the  immoral  conduct  of  its 
students;  but  even  from  early  age  Carlos  resisted  temp- 
tation of  every  sort.  When  he  left  the  university  with 
the  help  of  his  uncle,  the  Cardinal  de  Medici,  he  made 
the  great  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Winding  Sheet  of  our 
Lord,  but  with  incessant  fasting  and  merciless  scourging 
he  so  weakened  himself  that  he  fell  an  easy  prey  to  the 
fevers  of  the  East:  "a  valuable  life  sacrificed  for  want  of 
using  reasonable  precautions  to  preserve  it." 

The  old-time  presidio  church  at  Monterey — San 
Carlos  de  Monterey — so  often  confounded  with  the  Car- 
mel  Mission,  though  dating  back  to  mission  times  was 
never  properly  a  mission  church.  It  was  the  royal  chapel, 
the  place  of  worship  for  the  Governors  of  California, 
but  when  Carmel  Mission  was  abandoned,  all  the  mem- 
orials and  relics  of  Serra  were  transferred  here,  lending 
it  a  mission  mantle.  In  the  rear  can  now  be  seen  the 
dead  trunk  of  that  historic  tree  near  which  Viscaino 
landed  and  where  mass  was  first  celebrated.  Some  years 
ago,  being  injured  in  the  course  of  city  Improvements, 
it  was  unthinkingly  torn  up  and  thrown  into  the  bay. 
But  happily  Monterey's  parish  priest  was  blessed  with  a 
reverence  for  the  past  and  he  rescued  the  tree,  placing 
it  behind  his  church  for  all  the  world  to  reverence. 

San  Carlos  Borromeo  del  Carmelo  stands  on  an  ele- 
vation near  the  sea,  so  that  the  bay  with  its  shores  and 
the  plain  with  Its  groves  and  meandering  river  are  all 


CAUFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  161 

Spread  out  like  a  panorama,   to  one  looking  from   the 
mission. 

An  outside  stairway  leads  to  the  church  tower  where 
hang  six  bells,  one  of  which  once  rang  for  meals,  work 
.  and  rest,  so  that  the  daily  routine  of  the  mission  went 
along  with  such  regularity  that  even  the  laboring  animals 
understood  and  obeyed.  The  morning  Angelus  sum- 
moned all  to  rise  and  come  to  prayers.  And  one  of  the 
padres  of  San  Carlos  rang  it.  Being  in  delicate  health, 
and  not  able  to  refrain  too  long  from  his  morning  choco- 
late, and  of  course  being  forbidden  to  take  any  nourish- 
ment until  mass  was  said,  he  always  got  the  whole  popu- 
lation In  motion  long  before  sunrise  and  on  their  way  to 
church.  At  the  second  ringing  of  the  bell  each  neophyte 
brought  his  closely-woven  basket  for  his  portion  of 
atole — a  thick  gruel  of  barley.  At  the  third  summons  of 
the  bell,  just  at  sunrise,  all  the  neophytes  went  to  work, 
at  which  they  continued  until  the  eleven  o'clock  bell 
rang  for  the  dinner  of  stewed  meat  and  vegetables.  At 
two,  back  again  to  work,  until  the  peal  of  the  Angelus, 
but  every  afternoon  between  three  and  four,  during  the 
heated  hours,  the  padres  sent  to  the  fields  a  burro  laden 
with  jars  of  sweetened  water  and  vinegar  to  refresh 
the  workers.  At  five  the  duties  of  the  day  were  over  and 
man  and  beast  plodded  homeward,  where,  after  vespers 
and  a  light  supper,  sleep  spread  over  the  mission  and  all 
was  quiet. 


162  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

At  the  ringing  of  the  Angelus,  whether  heard  within 
the  mission  or  in  the  presidio  town,  no  matter  what  was 
being  done,  off  went  the  hat,  and  a  prayer  was  said. 
Even  gamblers  paused  in  their  exciting  game,  these  bells 
bringing  them  at  once  into  communion  with  their  Maker 
— at  least  in  form. 

Once  upon  a  time  the  cloisters  were  hung  with  weird 
pictures  of  hell  and  damnation;  one  showed  a  king  and  a 
monk,  up  to  their  middles  in  the  flames  of  purgatory, 
their  position  one  of  prayer,  and  their  faces  wearing  a 
pleasant  smile  hardly  to  be  expected  in  the  midst  of 
such  blistering  heat.  Another  represented  a  vain  beauty 
with  snakes  coiled  round  her  arm  in  the  act  of  biting, 
and  at  the  rear  of  the  church  was  once  found  her  epitaph: 
*'0  human  skull,  where  are  now  thine  eyes, 

O  skull,  those  eyes  with  which  thou  didst  try  to 
ensnare; 
Where   those   lips    and    tongue   with   which    thou    didst 
slander  thy  neighbor; 

Those  painted  cheeks  to  beguile, 
Hair,  neck,  shoulders,  all  has  vanished 

Like  the  smoke  in  the  air. 
O,  vanity  of  vanities,  thy  soul  is  in  hell." 

The  mission  was  secularized  in  1834  and  a  Mexican 
agent  was  sent  to  Monterey  expressly  to  take  charge. 
He  sailed  on  the  brig  Natalia,  the  very  vessel  upon  which 
Napoleon  Bonaparte  made  his  memorable  escape  from 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  163 

the  Isle  of  Elba.  While  lying  in  the  harbor  of  Monterey, 
a  heavy  northeaster  parted  the  ship's  cable  and  she 
drifted  ashore  where  portions  of  the  hull  still  lie  buried 
in  the  sand. 

All  the  mission  property  was  divided  among  the 
Indians  and  though  it  was  forbidden  to  buy  from  them, 
yet  in  one  single  year  they  had  either  sold  or  gambled 
away  what  they  could  not  eat  and  drink.  The  padres' 
spiritual  children  rapidly  sank  into  vice  and  degradation, 
and  by  1840  there  was  nothing  left  but  ruined  buildings 
and  the  old  glory  of  San  Carlos  had  departed  forever. 

Stevenson,  who  lived  at  Monterey  for  a  while,  gives 
us  a  word  sketch  of  these  mission  days:  "The  day  of  the 
Jesuit  is  gone  by  and  the  day  of  the  Yankee  has  suc- 
ceeded, and  there  is  no  one  left  to  care  for  the  converted 
savage.  The  mission  church  is  roofless  and  ruinous. 
Sea  breezes  and  sea  fogs  are  daily  widening  the  breaches. 
Only  one  day  in  the  year  the  padre  drives  over  the  hills 
from  Monterey,  and  the  little  sacristy,  which  is  now  the 
only  covered  portion  of  the  church,  is  filled  with  seats 
and  decorated  for  the  services.  The  Indians  troop  in, 
their  bright  dress  contrasting  with  their  dark  and  melan- 
choly faces,  and  here  among  a  crowd  of  somewhat  un- 
sympathetic holiday  makers  you  may  hear  God  served 
with  perhaps  more  touching  circumstance  than  in  any 
other  temple  under  heaven.  An  Indian,  stone-blind  and 
about  eighty  years  of  age,  conducts  the  singing,  while 


164  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

Other  Indians  compose  the  choir.  I  have  never  seen 
faces  more  vividly  Ht  up  with  joy  than  the  faces  of  these 
Indian  singers.  It  made  a  man's  heart  sorry  for  the  good 
fathers  of  yore  who  have  now  passed  away  from  all 
authority  in  this  land." 

In  still  later  years  these  beautiful  ruins  became  the 
hiding  place  for  idlers  and  revellers  till  it  was  believed 
that  Satan  haunted  the  highway  and  no  one  would  travel 
there  by  night.  But  one  young  man  on  a  wager  agreed 
that  on  the  first  dark  night  he  would  drive  "a  nail  of 
contempt"  in  these  sacred  walls.  Reaching  the  church 
safely  he  drove  the  nail,  but  as  he  turned  to  hasten  back, 
something  held  him.  Madre  de  Dios,  'tis  Satan!  And 
the  next  morning  his  friends  found  his  dead  body  standing 
by  the  church  door,  upheld  by  his  serape,  one  corner  of 
which  was  fastened  to  the  wall  by  the  very  nail  he  had 
driven. 

Junipero  Serra  was  born  on  the  Island  of  Majorca 
in  1713,  and  almost  from  babyhood  seemed  destined  to 
the  priesthood.  He  took  the  habit  of  a  Franciscan  monk 
at  sixteen  and  even  in  that  early  age  endeared  himself 
to  his  superiors  by  extreme  penance  and  rigid  fasting. 
He  studied  nothing  but  the  lives  of  saints  and  the  chroni- 
cles of  their  labors,  which  produced  such  a  deep  impres- 
sion that  he  resolved  to  become  a  missionary  and  felt 
willing  if  necessary  to  shed  his  blood  for  the  salvation  of 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  165 

savage  souls,  saying:  "He  that  converteth  a  soul  to  God 
shall  shine  as  a  star  in  the  firmament  of  heaven." 

When  the  monestary  of  San  Fernando  in  Mexico 
asked  for  recruits  in  America,  Serra  joyfully  responded, 
and  the  uncomplaining  patience  with  which  he  suffered 
the  tortures  of  thirst  during  this  long  voyage  was  a  source 
of  inspiration  to  all.  When  asked  how  he  went  so  long 
without  water  he  replied  "I  eat  little  and  talk  less,  and 
so  do  not  waste  my  saliva." 

The  labors  of  Father  Junipero  were  now  approaching 
their  close.  It  was  only  surprising  that  a  man  so  merci- 
less to  himself  and  so  extravagant  in  his  religious  fervor 
could  have  kept  on  so  long.  Besides  the  chain  with  which 
he  was  daily  accustomed,  in  imitation  of  St.  Francis,  to 
scourge  himself,  he  often  carried  a  huge  stone  into  the 
pulpit,  where  at  the  end  of  his  sermon,  in  what  was  known 
as  the  act  of  contrition,  he  would  lift  the  image  of  the 
crucified  Christ  in  his  left  hand  and  with  his  right, 
seizing  the  stone,  strike  himself  repeatedly  on  the  breast, 
and  with  such  violence  that  many  of  the  congregation 
were  afraid  he  would  give  himself  a  fatal  blow  and  fall 
dead  before  their  very  eyes.  On  some  special  occasions 
when  preaching  upon  the  subject  of  purgatory  and 
perdition  he  would  light  a  large  taper  having  four  wicks, 
open  the  bosom  of  his  habit  and  place  the  burning  mass 
next  his  flesh.     To-day  this  would  be  regarded  as  an 


166  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

act  of  a  distempered  brain;  then  It  was  the  most  forceful 
manner  of  reaching  and  aifecting  the  audience,  and  to 
attain  this  purpose  there  was  nothing  which  Junlpero 
would  not  have  been  wlUing  to  endure. 

But  It  was  only  his  great  spirit  t"hat  had  kept  him  up 
and  enabled  him  to  triumph  over  the  weakness  of  the 
flesh.  Now  he  knew  that  the  end  was  near.  Desiring 
to  receive  the  last  sacrament  he  Insisted,  sick  and  feeble 
as  he  was,  upon  going  to  the  church,  saying  that  it  was 
not  meet  that  the  Lord  should  come  to  him.  Upon  reach- 
ing the  altar  he  threw  himself  upon  his  knees,  remaining 
there  all  during  the  service  for  the  dying.  After  being 
given  absolution  and  receiving  the  holy  viaticum,  he 
joined  In  the  Tantum  Ergo,  and  a  thrill  went  through  the 
church  as  Father  Junipero's  wavering  voice  repeated  that 
grand  old  hymn.  "He  then  returned  to  his  cell  of 
adobe  where,"  writes  Palou,  "he  asked  for  the  holy  oils 
and  repeated  with  us  the  penitential  songs  and  litanies. 
Expressing  a  desire  to  go  to  rest,  we  left  the  apartment, 
supposing  he  meant  sleep,  as  he  had  slept  none  the  night 
before,  but  it  was  the  rest  which  knows  no  waking." 

When  the  mission  bells  were  tolled  announcing  his 
death,  the  entire  population  burst  Into  tears,  and  they 
crowded  around  his  sleeping  apartment,  with  difficulty 
stifling  their  sobs.  The  body  was  Immediately  laid  in  a 
coffin  which  had  been  prepared  the  week  before  by  the 
presidio  carpenter  at  Junipero's  own  request.     Six  lighted 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  167 

tapers  were  placed  about  it  and  the  door  of  the  cell  was 
thrown  open,  and  though  a  storm  had  arisen  and  the 
wind  blew,  the  tapers  without  a  flicker  still  flamed.  The 
Indian  neophytes  came  in  and  adorned  his  bier  with 
flowers,  while  the  Spaniards  who  pressed  around  reached 
out  their  rosaries  that  they  might  be  sanctified  by  contact 
with  the  hands  of  the  now  blessed  father. 

At  nightfall  a  procession  was  formed  and  the  body 
conveyed  to  the  church  where  it  was  placed  before  the 
altar.  Soldiers  were  stationed  around  to  protect  it  from 
the  pious  violence  of  those  who  sought  memorials  and 
relics,  but  even  so  it  was  not  possible  with  all  this  watch- 
ing to  prevent  pieces  of  his  robe  and  such  locks  as  were 
left  by  the  tonsure  from  being  cut  off  and  carried  away. 
During  the  ceremonies  at  the  bier  the  bells  were  cease- 
lessly tolled  and  every  quarter-hour  during  the  entire  day 
the  distant  boom  of  a  cannon  from  the  presidio  was  heard, 
answered  by  other  cannon  from  the  vessels  in  the  harbor. 
Palou  writes  that  Junipero  was  honored  as  if  he  had  been 
some  great  General,  forgetting  that  he  was  much  more 
honored  by  the  tears  of  his  neophytes  and  the  love  and 
devotion  of  his  comrades. 

Father  Junipero  sowed  the  seed  of  fruit  that  is  even 
now  being  reaped  and  to  him  California  is  forever 
indebted. 


CHAPTER  XV 

ANOTHER  EXCURSION  OFF  THE   ROYAL  HIGHWAY  INTO  THE 

LAND    WHERE    SANTA    CRUZ    ONCE    STOOD,    WITH    THE 

FABLE  OF  THE  MISSION   BELLS 

Starting  from  Carmel  By  the  Sea  there  follows  a 
series  of  marine  pictures  that  few  other  countries  in  the 
world  can  offer.  Most  of  the  way  one  skirts  the  shore 
where  the  waves  come  in  slowly  as  though  hungering 
for  calm,  as  Shelley  puts  it.  Then  as  if  in  a  temper  of 
disappointment  they  burst  with  great  uproar  "up  and 
down  the  long  keyboard  of  the  beach,"  or  in  more  serene 
mood  pulse  and  purr  along  the  coast  where  the  silent 
cypresses,  wind-twisted  in  fantastic  contortions,  stoop 
low  and  cling  close  to  the  earth  in  desperate  hope  of 
holding  ground  against  the  tempest  and  the  sea. 

Further  along,  numberless  seal  and  bird  rocks  lift 
their  heads  above  the  ocean,  that  a  mile  or  two  beyond 
beats  in  winter  fury  against  the  point  of  pines.  But 
Spring  brings  quiet  to  this  extreme  edge  of  the  dunes, 
and  with  the  gentle  breezes  come  thousands  of  butterflies 
that  cluster  so  thickly  on  the  sweet-smelling  pines  that 

168 


californian  trails,  intimate  guide  to  the  old  missions  169 

the  branches  bend  beneath  their  weight.  In  Summer 
fogs  may  be  in  possession  of  the  lower  levels:  here  they 
will  crawl  in  undulating  lines  among  the  shifting,  chang- 
ing sand  hills  or  perhaps  spiral  skyward  like  smoke. 

Over  high  cliffs,  through  Pacific  Grove,  where  the 
virgin  forests  glide  down  to  the  shore,  between  rocks  and 
branches,  winds  the  road  Into  the  quaint,  crooked  streets 
of  Monterey — right  past  the  home  of  Senorita  Bonafacio, 
where  still  grows  the  Sherman  Rose.  Captain  William 
Tecumseh  Sherman,  so  the  story  runs,  was  deeply  in 
love  with  Senorita  Maria,  and  when  unexpected  orders 
took  him  East  he  brought  as  a  parting  gift  a  beautiful 
rose  bush  to  plant  in  her  garden,  saying  that  so  long  as 
It  grew  he  would  be  faithful  and  by  the  time  that  it 
bloomed  she  would  be  his  bride.  Together  they  planted 
the  rose,  vowing  to  remain  true  to  each  other.  The 
rose  blooms  year  after  year  In  fadeless  beauty,  but 
Senorita  Maria,  worn  and  withered.  Is  still  unwed. 

Still  swinging  along  the  shore  one  gets  a  taste  of  many 
of  the  things  that  make  California  so  individual.  A 
barren  coast,  with  a  wilderness  of  exotic  palms  and  garden 
fields  that  have  broken  into  a  foam  of  flowers — surging 
over  porches,  gates  and  roofs,  down  streets  and  roads, 
in  a  glory  of  color,  sweetening  the  miles.  WatsonvIUe 
is  the  center  of  the  big  apple  orchards  and  if  it  be  Spring- 
time, they,  too,  make  another  vast  bridal  bouquet. 

After  that  to  come  suddenly  into  the  presence  of  those 


170  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

mighty  trees,  whose  trunks  leap  three  hundred  feet 
toward  the  sun,  is  unforgettable.  As  the  soft  twilight 
filters  through  the  closely  interlocked  branches,  swaying 
in  the  wind,  the  eye  of  imagination  glimpses  some  won- 
derful old-world  cathedral  even  as  the  ear  of  fancv  catches 
the  hush  of  music. 

This  is  not  El  Camino  Real,  for  all  mission  land- 
marks have  long  gone  from  Santa  Cruz  as  though  they 
never  had  been,  and  the  King's  Highway  from  Monterey 
turns  toward  San  Juan  Bautista  and  Northward  to 
Santa  Clara. 

But  no  true  lover  of  nature  will  stay  away  on  that 
account. 

SANTA    CRUZ 

It  was  on  September  22,  1791,  within  sight  of  the 
surging  ocean  that  Santa  Cruz  was  founded.  And  when 
at  sunrise,  bells  were  swung  over  a  bending  branch  and 
rung  In  the  presence  of  the  gathered  savages,  who  showed 
no  fear  of  the  white  man  and  apparently  no  terror  at  the 
thundering  of  the  guns  fired  at  the  elevation  of  the  cross, 
it  seemed  as  though  perhaps  the  true  significance  of 
the  holy  emblem  was  somehow  known  to  this  primitive 
folk,  as  the  sign  of  the  cross  goes  back  to  a  very  remote 
period,  and  from  the  earliest  time  has  had  a  symbolic 
religious  meaning — all  evil  spirits  from  the  dawn  of  the 
world  being  afraid  of  the  sign. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  171 

St.  Helena,  mother  of  Constantine  the  Great,  on  her 
voyage  to  Jerusalem,  was  the  one  who  found  the  cross. 
As  a  heavenly  revelation  had  given  her  confidence  that 
she  would  be  able  to  discover  the  Saviour's  tomb,  she  had 
vowed  to  rid  the  holy  sepulchre  of  the  accumulations  of 
rubbish  heaped  upon  it  and  to  destroy  the  pagan  buildings 
profaning  the  site.  In  the  excavations  that  followed, 
three  crosses  were  found,  and  all  were  puzzled  as  to  how 
they  should  distinguish  the  Saviour's  cross  from  that  of 
the  two  thieves.  But  joining  in  prayer  to  God  for  help, 
the  true  cross  was  declared,  for  a  woman  at  the  point  of 
death  was  brought  to  the  cross  of  the  two  thieves  and 
made  to  touch  them,  one  after  the  other,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose, and  then  she  was  carried  to  her  Saviour's  cross  and 
was  immediately  conscious  that  her  sickness  was  removed. 

"0  Crux  ave  spes  unica^^ — ("Hail  thou  Cross,  our 
only  hope;  behold  the  wood  of  the  cross  upon  which  the 
Saviour  of  the  world  was  extended;  let  us  come  and 
adore.") 

After  considerable  delay,  as  the  needed  church  orna- 
ments were  not  on  hand  and  they  could  not  go  ahead 
until  they  borrowed  them,  the  cornerstone  of  the  Santa 
Cruz  church  was  laid  with  the  usual  ceremony.  A  cross 
was  first  planted  on  the  ground  where  the  altar  was  to  be, 
and  the  salt  and  water  to  exorcise  the  evil  spirits,  were 
blessed.  First  taking  the  salt,  the  priest  prays  that  it 
may  have  sufficient  influence  to  destroy  the  malice  of 


172  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 
Satan.  Next  he  takes  the  water,  that  its  virtue,  Hke 
the  salt,  may  be  able  to  destroy  the  power  of  the  devil 
and  his  angels,  after  which  he  places  the  salt  in  the  form 
of  a  cross  within  the  vessel  of  water,  and  sings  "Set  O 
Lord  a  mark  of  salvation  on  this  place.  Do  not  suffer 
the  destroying  angel  to  enter  into  it,"  all  the  while  sprink- 
ling the  spot  where  the  cross  stands.  Finally  addressing 
himself  to  God  in  prayer  through  the  mediation  of  the 
particular  saint  to  whom  the  church  is  consecrated,  he 
blesses  the  cornerstone  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  the 
Son  and  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Despite  so  glorious  a  birth,  the  mission  early  sickened 
and  died,  due  largely  to  the  evil  effects  of  the  pueblo 
Branciforte,  established  by  Marques  de  Branciforte, 
viceroy  of  Mexico,  who  thus  thought  to  immortalize  his 
name.  But  the  settlers  were  all  of  the  vagabond  and 
criminal  class:  two  Spaniards,  one  Mestizo,  two  Negroes, 
eight  Mulattoes,  nine  Indians  and  a  Chinaman— ^a 
mysterious  tangle  of  all  kinds  of  available  ancestry,  and 
a  compound  of  many  simples,  as  Jacques  says  of  his 
Melancholy.  It  was  a  scandal  to  the  country  and  a 
deathblow  to  the  mission.  The  padres  bitterly  com- 
plained that  the  bad  example  of  these  dissolute  settlers 
compelled  them  to  severely  discipline  their  Indian 
children  much  more  frequently  than  usual,  as  they 
absented  themselves  from  prayers,  refused  to  work  and 
ran  away  at  every  opportunity. 

Mo-^t  of  the  Indians  profited  nothing  by  being  repri- 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  173 

manded  and  had  to  be  wliipped.  Curiously  enough,  when 
whipped  they  had  the  choice  of  a  scourge  of  rawhide 
or  one  of  stinging  hazel  twigs,  which  was  appHed  to  the 
culprit,  stretched  face  downward  on  the  ground.  All 
severe  punishments  were  administered  within  the  guard 
house,  but  slight  misdemeanors  were  corrected  every 
Sunday  after  mass  with  six  or  eight  lashes,  after  which  the 
sinner  went  in  submission  to  kiss  the  hand  of  the  padre, 
who  watched  from  the  church  door.  After  being  pun- 
ished, one  of  the  Indians  is  said  to  have  torn  off  his  shirt 
and  flung  it  at  the  feet  of  the  priest,  saying:  "Padre, 
take  back  thy  Christianity,"  but  most  of  them  accepted 
a  dozen  blows  with  indifference,  absolute,  yet  hardly  to 
be  wondered,  considering  the  extreme  torture  they 
underwent  as  boys,  whipped  with  nettles  until  their 
skins  were  enflamed  to  rawness,  and  then  carried  to  a 
nest  of  stinging  ants  and  laid  on  top  while  the  insects 
were  annoyed  with  sticks  to  render  them  more  furious. 
When  able  to  suffer  all  this  with  patience,  the  boy  was 
considered  a  man. 

The  old  mission  buildings  have  now  disappeared  com- 
pletely— and  the  convict  settlement  also  that  helped  to 
bring  about  the  downfall. 

MISSION    BELLS 

Henry  Fitch,  though  a  young  sailor  of  Puritan  fore- 
fathers, led  the  same  heedless,  daredevil  life  as  most  sea 
folk,  and  was  always  in  love  with  some  pretty  face.     But 


174  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

when  he  met  the  beautiful  Dona  Josefa,  whose  great 
dreamy  eyes  were  filled  with  the  joy  of  life,  he  knew  that 
at  last  he  had  seen  the  only  face  in  all  the  world,  and  at 
once  resolved  that  if  it  were  possible  he  would  make  her 
his  wife.  Learning  to  his  great  surprise  that  it  was 
considered  improper  in  this  Spanish  land  to  ask  for  a 
lady's  hand  in  person,  he  had  to  content  himself  with 
sending  the  regulation  letter  to  Joaquin  Carrillo,  her 
father,  making  his  request,  and  then  to  pass  the  ten 
days  of  waiting,  demanded  by  etiquette  before  a  reply 
would  be  sent. 

The  parents,  though  greatly  doubting  the  wisdom  of 
marriage  with  a  foreigner,  reluctantly  gave  their  consent, 
and  preparations  were  made  for  an  early  wedding.  The 
appointed  day  finally  came  and  the  finest  horse  in  the 
country  was  saddled,  and  Fitch  took  up  before  him  his 
future  God-mother,  and  the  future  God-father  took  up 
the  bride  before  him  and  away  galloped  the  four  at  full 
speed.  The  women  of  the  wedding  party,  in  wagons 
decorated  with  colored  silken  handkerchiefs  and  flowers, 
trailed  after,  while  all  the  men  slowly  cantered  along  on 
horseback.  Glad  shouts  and  the  firing  of  muskets  an- 
nounced their  arrival  at  the  church. 

Immediately  the  bridal  couple,  followed  by  brides- 
maids, groomsmen,  witnesses  and  friends,  approached 
the  altar  and  the  two  lovers  knelt  before  the  waiting 
padre.     But  hardly  had  they  done  so  when  Dona  Joscfas' 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  175 

uncle,  the  legal  witness  to  the  wedding,  In  a  loud  voice 
withdrew  his  consent  to  this  union  of  a  heretic  and  a 
daughter  of  the  true  church,  making  it  impossible  for 
the  padre  to  proceed  with  the  ceremony,  even  though 
his  sympathies  were  all  with  the  young  people,  as  he 
amply  proved  when  the  dejected  pair  later  came  to 
him  for  advice  and  help.  He  it  was  who  told  them  of 
other  countries  where  no  such  difficulties  existed,  even 
assisting  them  in  the  elopement  planned  by  their  friends, 
and  personally  placing  Dona  Josefa  in  charge  of  the  ship 
captain's  wife,  a  very  human  little  body  who  mothered 
this  lonely,  timid  girl  all  during  the  long  voyage  to  South 
America,  even  remaining  In  Peru  so  that  she  could  stand 
at  her  side  in  the  old  Cathedral,  where  she  was  given  in 
holy  matrimony  to  the  man  of  her  choice. 

After  spending  nearly  two  years  in  New  England  the 
young  bride,  who  had  married  against  her  parents'  wishes, 
longed  for  a  reconciliation,  and  indued  her  husband  to 
take  both  herself  and  her  baby  boy  on  the  long  journey 
back  to  the  land  of  her  birth.  Immediately  on  arrival 
Fitch  was  arrested,  as  having  violated  the  laws  of  the 
territory  and  his  wife  was  taken  to  the  home  of  her 
parents  in  disgrace.  The  little  pueblo  was  all  agog  with 
excitement.  Never  before  had  such  a  thing  occurred, 
though  the  law  forbidding  marriage  to  foreigners  had 
long  been  on  the  statute  books.  Morning,  noon  and 
night  this  heretical  marriage  was  the  subject  of  conver- 


176  CALIFCRNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

sation  in  every  household,  until  It  became  necessary  to 
convene  an  ecclesiastical  court  to  pass  upon  the  legality 
of  the  wedding.  After  a  long  session  with  many  argu- 
ments pro  and  con,  the  court  decided  that  the  m.i.iTiage 
was  valid,  but  considering  the  great  scandal  caused  by 
Fitch,  he  was  condemned  in  penance  and  as  reparation 
to  present  a  bell  to  the  church. 

Thus  the  mission  got  its  first  bell. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

BACK  AGAIN  TO  THE  ROYAL  HIGHWAY  AND  THE  INTERESTING 
STORY   OF    SAN    JUAN    BAUTISTA 

MONTEREY   TO    SAN    JUAN 

Back  at  Salinas  again,  the  "T"  in  the  road  extends 
one  arm  in  the  direction  of  Monterey,  the  other  towards 
San  Juan,  just  beyond  those  hazy  mountains,  scarcely 
seven  miles  away. 

In  the  near  distance  is  Fremont  Peak,  the  highest  of 
the  Gabilan  Range.  Gabilan,  by  the  way,  is  a  corruption 
of  the  Spanish  Gavilan,  meaning  hawk,  expressive  of 
height.  This  was  the  peak  ascended  by  Captain  John 
Fremont  in  defiance  of  the  Mexican  authorities  who  had 
ordered  him  to  leave  the  territory.  As  the  explorer 
looked  down  from  his  point  of  vantage,  and  saw  the  war- 
like preparations  directed  against  him,  he  wrote  his  well- 
known  historic  message.  ''I  am  making  myself  as  strong 
as  possible,  with  the  intention  that  if  we  are  unjustly 
attacked,  we  will  fight  to  extremity  and  refuse  quarter, 
trusting  to  our  country  to  avenge  our  deaths."  Then 
throwing  up  earthen  works  around  his  camp  he  raised  the 

177 


178  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

Stars  and  Stripes — for  the  first  time  on  Californian  soil: 
in  effect  an  act  of  war,  for  which  it  is  quite  impossible  to 
find  adequate  defense,  except  on  the  theory  that  Fremont 
had  been  sent  into  the  country  for  the  deliberate  purpose 
of  making  trouble.  The  remains  of  the  breast  works 
overgrown  with  weeds  and  even  the  stump  of  the  tree 
on  which  the  flag  was  raised,  can  still  be  seen.  Clematis 
hangs  its  long  scaling  ladder  over  the  escarpment  and 
the  abatis  is  filled  by  scrub  oak  and  manzanlta. 

The  view  from  here  Is  superb.  To  the  South  is  the 
Salinas  Valley — the  largest  in  the  coast  range;  on  the 
West  is  Monterey  Bay,  whose  ceaseless  ocean  rumble  is 
muffled  by  distance;  while  San  Juan  Valley,  called  the 
most  beautiful,  rolls  far  northward.  The  beauty  of  the 
whole  thing  is  overpowering.  The  poet  that  lives  in 
nearly  every  soul  arouses  within  you  and  you  feel  like 
withdrawing  to  that  valley  nook  or  peaked  promontory 
to  commune  with  Nature.  But  restrain  yourself,  because 
out  from  a  rocky  somewhere  will  crawl  a  real  estate 
agent  to  ask  how  you  like  the  climate  and  take  one  dollar 
down  as  a  first  payment  on  some  fruit  ranch.  And  not 
so  far-fetched  is  this,  for  in  the  days  of  frenzied  land 
scheming — not  entirely  ended — the  accepted  program 
in  California  was  to  take  from  any  optimistic  buyer 
whatever  small  percentage  of  the  purchase  price  he  might 
be  able  to  give,  and  then  abandon  him  to  his  devices, 
bad  enough  at  times,  though  again  and  again  with  that 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  179 
phenomenal  and  singular  fertility  of  the  Californian  soil 
the  seemingly  worthless  earth  would  sprout  masses  of 
tomato  vines  that  would  grow  (so  they  say)  19  feet  high, 
forcing  the  astonished  farmer  to  pick  his  "fruit"  from  a 
step)  ladder! 

The  polished  highway  runs  through  the  center  of  the 
town  of  San  Juan,  whose  only  too  apparent  commercial 
scale  of  values  gives  no  hint  of  the  poetry  of  the  plaza, 
just  one  short  block  away,  where  as  if  wafted  on  the 
magic  carpet  of  the  mythical  Persian,  one  is  transported 
to  another  time  and  another  world.  Here  was  staged 
much  of  California's  romantic  history. 

There  lingers  here  more  of  the  atmosphere  of  the 
olden  times  than  is  to  be  found  in  any  other  place  in 
California.  Locust  trees  wall  it  about.  Sunlight  fills 
it,  and  shadow,  and  quietness.  It  is  the  sleepiest, 
dreamiest  place  in  the  world,  an  authentic  relic  of  bygone 
days.  It  seems  that  Mrs.  Helen  Jackson,  visiting  it 
some  years  ago,  selected  San  Juan  as  the  setting  for  her 
"Ramona,"  but  some  garrulous,  gossipy  old  woman,  not 
being  able  to  drag  out  the  secret  of  why  she  especially 
wanted  her  house,  refused  to  rent,  allowing  her  to  depart, 
and  so  San  Juan  lost  its  one  chance  for  novelistic  fame. 

The  first  adobe,  as  usual,  was  built  to  garrison  the 
soldiers.  It  is  now  the  Plaza  Hotel,  and  across  the  entire 
length  of  the  facade,  at  the  second  floor  level  runs  an 
overhanging  wood  balcony,  acting  as  hallway  for  all  the 


180  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

second-Story  rooms  which  open  upon  it  with  shuttered 
door.  Di^fficult  to  reaHze  that  in  this  sleepy  plaza  were 
staged  so  many  of  the  gaieties  of  the  "golden  days." 
But  it's  the  same  hotel  from  whose  side  balcony  the 
aristocrats  looked  down  upon  the  revelings  below,  out- 
wardly little  changed,  though  the  passing  automobilist 
is  now  the  only  guest  and  the  feminine  heads  that  peer 
from  out  the  latticed  doors  no  longer  wear  the  mantilla 
that  added  such  interest  to  the  ugliest  face  and  made 
a  Madonna  out  of  every  pretty  one;  but  instead  only  the 
'dusty  motor  bonnet  covered  with  fluttering  veils. 

The  earliest  hotel  registers  have  been  carefully  pre- 
served, and  they  bear  the  historic  names  of  many  a 
celebrity  from  both  the  Spanish  and  later  Mexican 
regimes.  There  is  something  rather  sad  in  this  con- 
sciousness of  having  fallen  from  high  estate  and  being 
obliged  to  bolster  up  one's  pride  by  talking  of  what  used 
to  be. 

Nearby  is  the  Castro  House,  even  more  attractive, 
withdrawn  as  it  is  behind  its  line  of  trees.  Here  the 
"Rose  of  the  Rancho,"  the  beautiful  daughter  of  the 
house,  used  to  dance  the  Bamba,  that  most  difficult  of 
Spanish  dances,  liked  above  all  by  Senorita  Castro,  who 
with  a  clever  flirting  of  her  silken  shawl  could  easily 
hint  at  the  handsome  roundings  of  her  naked  arms  and 
draw  admiration  to  her  tiny  feet.  Here  it  was  when 
Commander    Sloat    made    his    memorable    landing    at 


SAN  JUAN  HAUTISTA  MISSION 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  181 
Monterey,  raising  the  Stars  and  Stripes  over  the  Custom 
House,  signalHzIng  the  passing  of  CaHfornia  from  Mexican 
rule.  Here  meetings  were  held  with  General  Castro 
and  excited  speeches  were  made  advocating  revolutionary- 
methods  that  brought  for  the  f  rst  time  the  war-like  fife 
and  drumming  to  the  peaceful  life  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  old  mission  town. 

At  nightfall  the  loiterers  still  leisurely  stroll  about 
the  plaza  to  be  stared  at — and  then  in  turn  to  sit  beneath 
the  locust  boughs  to  stare. 

It  gives  a  feeling  of  peace,  this  old  Spanisb-Mexxan 
town.  And  it  makes  a  fitting  home  for  the  Mission  of 
San  Juan  Bautista. 

SAN   JUAN   BAUTISTA 

When  one  pauses  long  enough  to  remember  that  the 
word  "mission"  comes  from  the  Latin  "wz^o,"  meaning 
"I  send,"  San  Juan  Bautista — St.  John  the  Baptist — is 
peculiarly  fitting  as  a  mission  nam.e.  Yet  San  Juan  is 
the  fifteenth  pearl  of  the  mission  chaplet,  not  having 
been  founded  until  June  24,  1797,  on  St.  John's  Day, 
when  it  was  dedicated  to  that  glorious  precursor  of  Jesus 
Christ,  who  went  before  the  face  of  the  Lord  to  prepare 
his  ways,  by  giving  knowledge  of  salvation  unto  the 
people  for  the  remission  of  their  sins. 

Work  upon  the  various  buildings  was  immediately 
begun  and  the  church  cornerstone  set  in  place   in  1803, 


182  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

though  the  finished  building  was  not  dedicated  until 
1812.  It  took  fifteen  years  and  hundreds  of  workmen  to 
complete  the  task.  Just  how  many  hundreds  it  is  for 
the  mathematically-inclined  to  determine.  All  that  one 
requires  is  the  patience  to  count  the  tiles  and  adobes  in 
the  buildings  and  then,  with  40  adobes  or  31  tiles  per 
diem  per  Indian  as  divisor,  the  problem  is  simple;  for 
the  number  of  adobes  to  be  made  a  day  was  fixed  by  the 
authorities  after  a  strike  of  the  Indian  workers  who  at 
first  were  compelled  to  make  50,  soldiers  standing  by 
until  the  "task"  was  finished.  All  might  have  gone  well 
had  not  the  plutocrats  of  the  day  enlarged  the  adobe 
moulds  when  the  Indians  revolted.  But  then  the  govern- 
ment had  to  take  a  hand.  So  you  see,  history  only 
keeps  on  repeating  itself.  Adobes  were  made  of  mud, 
straw  or  some  rough  grass,  mixed  with  the  blood  of 
bulls  or  liquified  manure,  thoroughly  kneaded  by  hand  or 
foot,  moulded  and  dried  in  the  sun.  Interesting  to  see 
imprinted  on  some  of  these  adobe  bricks  the  foot-marks 
of  wolves  and  mountain  lions  who  after  nightfall,  curi- 
ously inclined,  prowled  about  and  over  the  strange 
objects  left  out  to  dry. 

The  original  plan  of  this  mission  was  typical  of  them 
all;  an  enclosing  court,  with  the  church  at  one  corner; 
but  the  church  differs  architecturally  from  all  other 
mission  churches,  having  not  only  a  chancel  separated 
from  the  nave  by  a  great  arch,  but  transepts  as  well  as 


e' 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  183 

nave.  The  transept  arches  are  to-day  filled  in,  except 
the  two  nearest  the  altar  which  according  to  the  resident 
priest,  have  been  blocked  up  since  the  first  earthquake 
in  1812  cracked  all  the  adobe  walls  and  compelled  every- 
body— friars  and  Indians,  to  sleep  out-of-doors  for  safety. 

Appropriation  by  covetous  Mexico,  amiably  called 
secularization,  was  claimed  to  be  a  success  here  at  San 
Juan,  as  the  Indians  made  tolerably  good  use  of  their 
freedom;  but  the  marks  of  that  destroying  period  will 
require  many  years  and  much  money  if  they  are  ever 
to  be  efi^aced.  The  church  proper  has  been  dismantled 
and  is  no  longer  in  use  for  services,  though  in  the  chancel 
still  stands  the  gaudily-colored  reredos  with  six  eyeless 
sockets  where  once  were  figures  of  saints  shedding  light 
upon  the  world.  This  reredos  is  credited  to  one  Thomas 
Doak,  a  Yankee  sailor  man,  hailing  from  Boston,  the 
first  American  to  settle  ofiicially  in  California.  Ap- 
parently he  was  the  forebear  of  California's  much  dis- 
cussed cheap  labor,  for  in  comparison  with  him  a  real 
artist  who  asked  sixty  cents  a  day  for  the  same  work  was 
considered  a  grasping  monopolist.  As  the  records  have 
it,  Thomas  Doak,  by  the  help  of  God  and  some  muchados 
— Indian  boys — achieved  the  altar  decorations  at  San 
Juan  Bautista. 

Still  fixed  to  the  side-wall  is  the  quaint  old  box  of  a 
pulpit,  from  which  Father  Arroyo  is  said  to  have 
thundered  at  the  Indians  in  thirteen  native  dialects — 


184  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

one  hopes  not  all  at  the  same  time,  though  the  parish 
books  give  the  names  of  forty-two  Indian  tribes  belonging 
to  this  mission,  speaking  twenty-nine  dialects  and  thir- 
teen different  languages. 

A  jolly  old  soul  was  Father  Arroyo  de  la  Cuesta,  who 
lightened,  with  many  a  whimsical  comment,  the  tedious 
labor  of  preserving  in  book  form  these  various  Indian 
dialects.  "The  best  way,"  he  writes,  "to  see  and  hear 
a  new  dialect  is  to  associate  mostly  with  old  ladies — 
and  some  young  ones — for  you  must  see  it  as  well  as  hear 
it,  as  in  talking  it  is  necessary  to  mouth  your  speech, 
working  the  teeth  just  as  you  would  when  eating,  and," 
he  adds,  "after  half  an  hour's  talking  I  get  hungry." 
Again  he  writes  that  "a  verb  with  no  past  tense  is  above 
my  comprehension,  but  I  will  ask  God's  help  and  will 
learn,  though  it  takes  bloody  tears."  Once  he  learned 
the  language  of  a  tribe  he  would  at  once  teach  the  simplest 
of  the  religious  truths,  finally  bringing  the  whole  tribe 
under  the  protecting  cloak  of  the  church.  But  the  first 
language  of  this  padre  was  a  little  music  box  which  he 
would  load  on  the  back  of  a  sturdy  mule,  and  carry  to 
some  faraway  Indian  settlement;  there  he  would  set  it 
up  In  some  prominent  place  and  rapidly  turn  the  crank. 
When  the  Indians  first  heard  the  strange  noises  they  fell 
upon  their  faces  with  fear,  but  as  the  music  continued 
their  fear  left  them  and  they  began  to  enjoy  the  sweet 
sounds,    ending   by   slowly   approaching   and   gathering 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  185 
about  the  padre,  listening  to  the  wonderful  song-box  with 
delight.  Then  Padre  Arroyo,  just  at  the  right  moment, 
always  turning  the  crank,  would  reload  the  mule  and, 
like  the  Pied  Piper  of  Hamlin,  wend  his  way  back  to  the 
mission,  all  the  Indians  following  after. 

This  is  probably  the  very  organ  given  to  the  mission 
San  Carlos  by  Vancouver  on  his  second  trip,  as  it  is 
of  English  make,  being  built  in  London  in  the  early 
1700's.  After  years  of  use  the  organ  lost  its  voice  and 
lay  neglected  in  the  mission  storeroom  until  a  wandering 
tinker,  announcing  that  he  was  a  music  tuner,  asked  for 
something  to  eat.  Put  to  work  on  the  old  music  box  he 
brought  back  to  life  its  long  disused  voice,  and  to-day 
among  the  mission  relics  it  still  speaks,  somewhat  huskily 
to  be  sure  and  even  hesitatingly,  as  if  feeling  ashamed  at 
being  forced  to  play  "Go  to  the  Devil"  amid  such  holy 
surroundings.  Probably  none  of  the  old  padres  was  able 
to  read  English,  and  so  In  all  blissful  Ignorance  they 
would  crank  out  "The  Siren's  Call"  or  "The  Hungarian 
Chicken"  with  deep  religious  solemnity. 

Of  all  missions  San  Juan  is  probably  the  richest  in 
relics,  and  here  in  the  museum,  just  alongside  the  old 
English  organ,  may  be  seen  a  crude  reed  dovecote  that 
once  hung  on  the  church  celling,  and  from  which  on 
Whitsunday  or  Pentecost  was  released  a  white  dove  to 
hover  over  the  kneeling  Indians  below,  commemorating 
the  descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost  on  the  Apostles.     You  will 


186  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

be  shown  gorgeous  vestments  worth  a  fortune,  but  which 
no  fortune  can  buy.  Then  a  copper  bowl  fluted  like  a 
shell,  formerly  suspended  over  the  hand-hewn  stone  font 
in  the  Baptistry,  so  arranged  that  the  holy  water  would 
drip,  drop  by  drop,  on  the  Indians'  heads  bowed  for  the 
sacramental  cleansing.  It  is  quaintly  recorded  that  in 
this  bowl  an  Indian  girl  lost  her  pagan  name,  being 
christened  Jesusa. 

You  will  find  much  mass  music  in  picturesque  volumes, 
faultlessly  written,  with  each  voice  Indicated  In  a  different 
color,  so  that  some  might  raise  their  hearts  to  God  in 
red  notes  of  love,  while  others  sang  their  sorrows  in 
notes  of  blue.  What  a  reflection  upon  modern  ways  and 
manners  that  these  vellum-bound  books  and  other  relics 
must  now  be  kept  behind  wire  netting  to  protect  them 
from  destructive  fingers  that  Itch  to  write  their  names 
on  sacred  books  or  to  break  off  the  noses  and  ears  of 
Saintly  statues  and  carry  them  away  as  souvenirs. 

But  "to-morrow  we  die,"  and  just  outside  the  Bap- 
tistry where  all  were  born  In  Christ,  is  the  consecrated 
ground  where  thousands  In  their  last  sleep  He  In  the  arms 
of  Holy  Church,  shaded  by  century-old  olive  trees  still 
"flaunting"  their  gray-green  foliage.  Never  working 
mentally,  never  worrying,  always  fatalists,  the  Indians 
were  seldom  grey  at  the  time  a  white  man  usually  went 
to  his  grave.  The  official  records  make  mention  of 
several  over   120  years  of  age.     One  old  neophyte  was 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  187 

honored  by  being  buried  In  habit,  hood  and  cordon  of 
San  Francis,  as  he  had  bequeathed  to  the  padre  eight 
dollars  and  all  his  poultry.  Another  entry  tells  how 
Christian  burial  was  denied  to  Manuel,  the  husband 
of  Monica,  since  he  made  himself  unworthy  by  his  scan- 
dalous habits,  being  constantly  intoxicated  with  pispibata. 
It  seems  as  though  all  mankind  would  have  their  alcohol 
In  some  form,  and  the  Indians  of  California  insisted  upon 
their  pispibata,  a  mixture  made  of  powdered  calcined 
glass,  wild  tobacco  juice  and  cherries,  which  was  stirred 
over  a  slow  fire  until  it  almost  solidified.  Into  this  mess 
the  savages  would  dip  their  forefingers  which  they  licked 
with  a  smack  of  satisfaction.  It  is  horribly  powerful, 
equal,  they  say,  to  a  mixture  of  rum  and  opium,  if  one 
can  imagine  what  that  could  be,  and  after  two  or  three 
"licks"  an  Indian  would  fall  back  dead-drunk — or  just 
dead,  if  a  little  too  much  had  been  taken.  Strange  to 
say,  the  wild  tobacco  plant  that  paralyzed  their  bodies 
and  took  their  souls  into  the  realms  of  supernatural 
happiness   is   still   growing  just   along   the   wall   of   the 

cemetery  where  so  many  of  them  now  lie  in  their  last 
sleep. 

All  Indians  believed  that  the  soul  lived  after  deatn, 

but  just  as  the  Japanese,  that  the  spirits  needed  help  on 

their  journey,  and  so  the  graves  at  San  Juan  are  littered 

with  all   sorts  of  rubbish   which   their  childlike    minds 

thought  might  be  useful. 


188  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

Along  the  wall  of  the  cemetery  Is  a  bit  of  original  El 
Camino  Real,  the  only  strip  that  remains  just  as  it  was 
when  the  padres  toiled  over  the  dusty  way.  Beyond,  out 
in  the  valley  are  a  few  of  the  old  pear  trees,  a  remnant  of 
the  once  vast  orchard  that  In  the  late  fall  clothed  this 
vale  with  a  carnival  garb  of  flaming  red  and  orange. 

Lingering  aromas  of  former  days! 

Greed — Mexico  by  name — hiding  beneath  the  specious 
cloak  of  justice  appears  upon  the  scene  with  an  itching 
desire  to  get  her  hand  upon  the  rich  Pious  Fund. 

This  fund  was  an  endowment  intended  for  use  in  the 
spread  and  maintenance  of  the  Catholic  religion  in 
California,  and  the  mother-country,  Spain,  started  the 
bad  example  of  misuse  when  Don  Caspar  de  Portola  and 
Junlpero  Serra  were  sent  to  the  California  coast  In  1769 — 
a  purely  political  move  on  the  part  of  Spain  to  prevent 
the  Russians  from  acquiring  territory.  Yet  Spain  labeled 
It  religious,  saying:  "May  the  Lord  guide  this  expedition 
to  success  as  the  undertaking  Is  entirely  His."  Bearing 
this  religious  tag  Spain  claimed  It  was  only  just  to  defray 
the  expenses  from  the  Pious  Fund. 

Like  mother  like  daughter,  only  more  so,  for  Mexico 
was  never  satisfied  with  merely  drawing  against  the 
Income,  but  boldly  confiscated  principal  and  all  at  the 
first  opportunity,  asserting  there  was  no  longer  necessity 
for  such  a  fund,  as  the  Indians  were  already  converted 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  189 
and  now  needed  to  have  their  freedom.  Of  course,  they 
gave  the  Indians  some  httle  land  and  a  few  cows,  but 
ignorance,  indolence  and  love  of  gambling  soon  got  these 
possessions  away.  The  mission  Indians  half  civilized 
and  half  savage  were  always  the  victims.  A  more  pitiful 
sight,  says  an  early  writer,  has  seldom  been  seen  than 
these  helpless,  dependent  creatures  suddenly  deprived 
of  their  teachers  and  protectors.  Some  of  the  friars 
stayed  at  the  missions  to  the  end  of  their  lives,  able  to 
do  little  except  through  example,  while  others,  unable  to 
bear  the  humiliation  and  the  sense  of  failure,  fled  the 
country. 

Father  Peyri  was  early  disheartened.  Zealous  though 
he  was  and  willing  to  nourish  his  savage  young  with 
his  own  life  blood,  he  was  constantly  being  met  with  In- 
surmontable  difficulties.  Shorn  of  all  power  he  was  not 
allowed  even  to  lift  up  his  voice  In  protest,  much  less  to 
oppose  the  111  treatment  accorded  his  former  charges,  who 
before  his  very  eyes  were  robbed  of  their  land,  cheated  out 
of  their  little  money,  lured  on  to  drink  and  vice,  and  then 
hired  out  to  farming  overseers  who  maltreated  and 
exploited  them  in  every  possible  way  without  a  single 
restraining  hand.  With  no  means  of  his  own,  living  on 
the  charity  of  the  government,  doled  out  by  the  agent  in 
charge  only  when  the  whim  seized  him,  Father  Peyri 
could  see  little  hope  In  the  future,  and  believing  he 
might  be  of  more  use  elsewhere,  planned  to  leave  the 


190  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

country.  Wishing  to  leave  without  the  Indians'  knowl- 
edge he  stole  off  secretly  at  night,  riding  to  the  nearest 
port  in  hopes  of  finding  a  vessel  to  carry  him  away. 
Unaccustomed  as  were  all  the  Franciscan  Fathers  to 
horseback  riding,  It  was  late  the  following  morning  before 
he  reached  the  desired  harbor,  and  long  before  that  the 
Indians  had  discovered  his  departure  and  almost  crazed 
with  grief,  at  once  saddled  their  horses  and  raced  at  full 
speed  in  the  direction  which  doglike  they  knew  Father 
Peyri  had  taken.  With  unerring  instinct  they  rode 
straight  to  the  beach  where  just  beyond  the  last  line  of 
breakers  rolled  a  brig  at  anchor.  Even  as  they  ap- 
proached sails  were  being  unfurled  and  preparations 
made  for  departure.  Soon  the  ship  wore  about  to  catch 
the  early  afternoon  breeze  astern  and  as  she  turned,  the 
Indians  caught  sight  of  a  well-known  figure  In  brown 
standing  at  the  bow.  With  one  accord  they  jumped 
from  their  horses  and  plunged  into  the  surf.  Strong 
swimmers  though  they  were,  It  seemed  an  impossible 
task  to  overhaul  the  boat  now  fast  gaining  headway. 
Two,  however,  managed  to  reach  the  vessel's  side  and 
begged  so  hard  to  be  taken  aboard  that  unable  to  with- 
stand their  pleadings.  Father  Peyri  gave  consent. 

Fate  decreed  that  this  boat  should  sail  to  Italy  where 
she  arrived  after  a  tedious  four  months'  voyage.  During 
all  the  long  waking  hours  when  not  at  his  devotions, 
Father  Peyri  instructed  these  two  Indian  lads,  pouring 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  191 

out  all  the  treasures  of  his  mind  with  so  genuine  a  fervor 
that  the  seed  of  knowledge  blossomed  into  goodly  fruit. 
On  reaching  Rome  one  of  the  Indians  elected  to  become 
a  priest,  and  for  many  years  he  lived  near  the  Vatican, 
a  sainted  savage. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

ALONG   THE   WAY   TO    SAN    JOSE   AND    THE     MISSION     SANTA 
CLARA,    DEDICATED    TO    THE    POOR    CLARES. 

Speeding  along  "on  high,"  that  will  surely  carry  our 
motor  to  Gllroy,  twelve  miles  away,  in  less  than  half  an 
hour,  the  picture  of  the  road,  as  it  was,  say  seventy-five 
years  ago,  inevitably  flashes  before  one's  eyes.  Father 
Palou  wrote  that  it  was  a  good  road,  but  that  must  have 
been  religiously  speaking,  for  he  was  then  traveling  his 
"path  of  glory,"  and  he  only  meant  that  through  this 
level  valley  Nature  had  interposed  no  obstacle  and  had 
left  an  open  route  for  all  wild  creatures,  two  or  four 
footed — a  trail  that  may  have  existed  for  centuries. 

How  the  procession  changes  with  the  passing  years! 
First  came  the  pioneer  missionaries,  the  Franciscan 
Fathers,  humbly  traveling  afoot  from  mission  to  mission, 
then  the  care-free  Spanish  couriers  on  gaily  accoutered 
horses, ^  possibly  followed  by  slow-moving  strings  of 
stately  Spanish  mules  or  balky  little  Mexican  burros, 
those  beasts  of  burden  that  carried  the  good  padres' 
exports  of  hide  and  tallow.     Later,  Indian  herders  with 

192 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  193 

droves  of  cattle  and  companies  of  Spanish  soldiers  with 
royal  officials — even  brigands,  perhaps.  Again  later,  the 
stout  careta  with  its  ponderous  running  gear  propelled  by 
oxen,  with  yokes  firmly  lashed  behind  wide-spreading 
horns.  Now  the  motor  car  which  in  less  than  half  an 
hour  travels  the  same  distance  that  a  careta  in  1851 
leaving  Gilroy  at  midnight  would  not  cover  before  high 
mass  the  next  morning — ten  hours  for  a  twelve-mile  trip. 

At  Gilroy  is  found  another  of  those  "largest  seed 
farms  in  the  world,"  which  says  it  with  flowers  to  the 
uttermost  parts  of  the  earth — with  immaculate  white 
roses  to  the  queens  of  Purity;  passion  flowers  for  those 
who  would  express  hatred,  or  jasmine  and  red  pinks  to 
the  coquettes  and  the  jealous  ones  of  the  world. 

Beyond  Gilroy  is  apple  orchard  country,  where  the 
first  prize  for  the  most  tempting  apple  most  appropriately 
went  to  the  little  town  of  Eden. 

Six  miles  further  is  San  Jose,  particularly  interesting 
as  the  first  town  established  in  California,  and  not  only 
the  first  town,  but  the  site  where  the  first  government  of 
the  state  was  established  under  American  rule.  Accord- 
ing to  Markham,  the  early  days  were  happy-go-lucky 
ones,  when  It  was  felt  more  necessary  to  strum  the  guitar 
and  shuffle  the  cards  than  irrigate  the  ground  and  dis- 
courage weeds.  But  then,  the  country  being  under 
military  rule,  the  corporal  of  the  guard  might  fall  upon 
any  shirking  farmer  and  the  hands  that  loved  to  wander 


194  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

over  Instruments  of  music  were  left  dangling  from  the 
port-holes  of  the  public  pillory,  and  the  feet  that  loved  to 
glide  In  the  old  Castllllan  dances  were  clamped  In  Irons^ 
But  San  Jose  has  long  ago  lived  down  those  vagabond 
days  and  Is  now  a  thriving  city,  Its  twenty  square  miles, 
beautiful  with  broad  avenues  and  shady  walks  all  lined 
with  paradise  roses  In  which  It  Is  said  thorns  were  un- 
known until  after  the  "fall,"  though  mythology  asserts 
that  they  were  the  fault  of  Cupid  who,  when  ecstatically 
kissing  a  new-blown  rose,  was  stung  by  a  bee  thus  rudely 
awakened  from  sweet  sleep  In  the  heart  of  the  flower. 
Venus,  to  placate  her  petulant  Cupid,  had  to  string  his 
bow  with  captured  bees  and  plant  along  the  rose  stem 
the  "stings"  torn  from  them. 

San  Jose  is  well  known  as  the  home  of  the  Lick  Observ- 
atory, where  lies  the  proof  that  a  man  of  science  can  at 
the  same  time  be  a  man  of  sentiment;  for  the  donor  of 
this  observatory,  by  will,  decreed  that  at  his  death  he 
should  be  burled  directly  beneath  the  telescope,  through 
which  in  life  he  had  gazed  for  over  twenty  years,  day  and 
night. 

Between  San  Jose  and  the  Mission  Santa  Clara  runs 
the  Alameda,  a  grove  of  poplars  planted  by  the  same 
fathers  who  built  the  mission,  so  as  to  prevent  the  San 
Joselans  from  offering  the  hot  sun  as  an  excuse  for  absent- 
ing themselves  from  church  service.  Thanks  to  their 
protecting    branches    the    people    would    arrive    at    the 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  195 

mission  cool  and  refreshed  in  a  fitting  mood  to  listen  to 
the  heated  diatribes  of  Padre  Catala. 

SANTA  CLARA 

The  great  plain  in  which  now  stands  the  Mission 
Santa  Clara,  was  one  time  covered  with  thick  lush  grass 
through  which  swarmed  immense  herds  of  elk,  deer  and 
antelope,  attracting  the  attention  of  the  padres  from 
the  very  first.  Let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  the  Francis- 
cans, while  men  of  deep  spirituality,  were  at  the  same 
time  possessed  of  a  keen  insight  into  material  possibilities. 
Every  one  of  the  missions,  from  San  Diego  to  Sonoma, 
lies  in  some  beautiful  fertile  valley  through  which  runs 
an  ever  present  supply  of  water;  and  the  wealth  of  the 
missions  all  came  from  the  ability  of  the  padres  to  scien- 
tifically supply  this  water  to  the  land,  making  the  waste 
places  bloom,  over  night.  Into  fields  of  green.  They 
must  have  carried  a  divining  rod,  for  the  Santa  Clara 
Valley  is  famed  throughout  the  world.  It  is,  probably, 
the  richest  in  the  state,  bearing  great  harvests  of  grain, 
while  every  species  of  European  fruit  thrives  luxuriantly 
in  it. 

Early  in  1777  a  chapel  was  erected  and  sanctified, 
and  as  soon  as  Father  Murguia,  the  associate  missionary, 
arrived,  the  church  itself  was  begun.  Padre  Murguia 
acting  as  architect  as  well  as  builder.  Stone  by  stone  he 
watched   the  church   rise  to  completion,   little  realizing 


196  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIOMS 

that  this  loving  care  and  unceasing  labor  were  being 
squandered  upon  his  own  mausoleum.  Only  four  days 
after  the  church  was  dedicated,  God  touched  Padre 
Murguia  with  His  finger  and  he  still  sleeps  beneath  the 
tile  flooring  of  the  sacred  edifice. 

It  is  said  that  this  is  the  site  first  selected  for  the 
Mission  San  Francisco,  and  that  a  cross  was  raised  and 
actually  dedicated  to  the  Padre  Serafico,  though  later, 
with  true  Spanish  politeness,  rededicated  to  the  Madre 
Serafica,  Santa  Clara,  foundress  of  the  first  community 
of  Franciscan  nuns.  Perhaps  bored  by  the  vain  frivolities 
of  her  aristocratic  life  and  falling  under  the  wonderful 
influence  of  Saint  Francis,  she  was  seized  with  the  holy 
desire  to  become  a  sister  of  the  church.  Going  to  a  con- 
vent she  fell  on  her  knees  and  implored  them  to  receive 
her.  In  a  paroxysm  of  devotion  she  tore  off  her  jewels, 
divested  herself  of  her  silken  brocades  and  velvets  and 
bowed  her  head  to  the  shears  that  were  to  cut  off  her 
beautiful  long  hair.  A  coarse  grey  habit  was  hastily 
flung  over  her  and  trembling  with  joy  she  found  herself 
enrolled  in  the  ranks  of  the  champions  of  Poverty,  where 
she  became  as  famous  for  her  austerity  and  piety  as 
before  for  her  wit  and  beauty.  Her  religious  title  is 
Santa  Clara  de  Assisi,  Virgen  y  Matriarca  de  su  Cele- 
berima  Religion,  a  somewhat  high-sounding  title  for  the 
head  of  the  "poor  Clares." 

Chance  decreed  that  Santa  Clara  was  to  be  materially 


w  ■;  W-.  ■iT'* :  ■  :*-.'n 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  197 

benefited  by  the  edict  requiring  the  padres  to  assume  the 
temporahties.  When  they  hopefully  set  to  work  to  gather 
up  the  fragments  remaining  from  secularization  they  soon 
discovered  that  the  old  mission  was  destined  to  become 
a  most  prosperous  parish  church.  In  1851  they  suc- 
ceeded in  establishing  the  Santa  Clara  college,  chartered 
with  all  the  rights  and  privileges  of  a  university,  which 
soon  grew  to  such  large  proportions  that  it  was  necessary 
to  either  tear  down  the  old  mission  or  renovate  it  out 
of  all  semblance  to  its  former  self.  The  hand  of  the 
restorer  has  been  somewhat  guided  by  reverence  for  the 
past,  and  there  still  lingers  for  the  sympathetic  seeker  a 
slight  trace  of  the  ancient  flavor,  despite  the  two  modern 
dormitories  winging  the  church  on  either  side.  Fronting 
the  mission  is  a  memorial  cross  boxing  within  it  the 
original  crucifix,  and  to  the  casual  observer  the  interior 
is  much  as  it  was  in  the  old  days,  with  many  of  the  old 
furnishings  and  sacred  relics  still  to  be  seen. 

No  one  better  deserves  a  name  in  history  and  a  place 
in  heaven  than  Padre  Magin  Catala,  to  whom  are  popu- 
larly attributed  certain  miraculous  powers,  on  the  strength 
of  which  the  church  of  Santa  Clara  was  recommended 
for  beatification.  He  loved  to  engage  in  hand-to-hand 
conflicts  with  his  arch  enemy,  Satan,  at  whom  he  would 
scream,  and  spar  with  his  fists  until  the  devil  was  so 
frightened  that  he  dare  not  come  near  him.  One  day, 
while  "blessing  the  country  with  his  presence"  he  un- 


198  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 
thinkingly  walked  out  among  the  wild  cattle.  With  eyes 
fixed  upon  his  Holy  Book,  his  soul  communed  with 
heaven.  "Have  a  care,  good  Father,"  shouted  a  neo- 
phyte. "He  for  whom  God  cares,  my  son,  himself  need 
have  no  care,"  answered  Padre  Magin,  and  he  raised  his 
eyes  only  to  encounter  a  threatening  mad  bull.  But  he 
at  once  lowered  his  book  and  continued  to  read.  When 
the  beast  bellowed  menacingly  the  padre  began  to  sing  a 
hymn.  Enraged  but  the  more  the  beast  tore  up  the  earth 
with  his  pawing,  throwing  dirt  on  the  sacred  vestments 
of  the  priest,  and  with  head  down  charged  at  him.  All 
held  their  breath,  fearing  the  good  padre  would  be  gored 
to  death.  "Peace!  peace!  malignant  spirit,"  said  the 
padre,  and  the  mad  bull  immediately  stopped,  dropped 
his  head  and  trotted  away,  overcome  by  the  power  of 
God  as  evidenced  in  his  servant. 

It  is  told  of  the  same  good  padre  that  once  when 
millions  of  locusts  settled  on  the  fields  and  orchards  of 
Santa  Clara,  eating  away  every  trace  of  verdure,  he 
ordered  a  half-dozen  of  them  to  be  caught  and  brought 
to  him.  At  once  putting  on  his  vestments  and  placing 
the  locust  before  him  he  recited  a  few  prayers  and  then 
sent  them  back  to  the  fields  from  whence  they  were 
brought.  In  a  few  moments  all  those  millions  of  locusts 
rose  in  a  body  and  flew  away  plunging  into  the  sea,  and 
the  next  day  the  beach  was  covered  three  inches  deep 
with  dead  locusts  washed  ashore  by  the  waves. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  199 
When  the  time  came  that  will  come  to  all  of  us  he 
asked  two  pious  Indians  to  stay  with  him,  telling  them 
that  he  would  die  that  night.  "Watch  the  heavens," 
he  said,  "and  when  you  see  the  'morning  sky'  appear, 
let  me  know."  With  that  he  slept  until  aroused  by  one 
of  the  Indians  who  whispered  that  the  sky  had  appeared. 
"It  is  time  then  for  the  priests  to  come  and  pray  with 
me,"  he  answered.  "The  end  is  here." 
And  the  finger  of  God  touched  him,  too. 

LA  POSADA  (the  INn)  AND  LOS  PASTORES  (tHE  SHEPHERDs) 

In  the  days  of  Caesar  Augustus  there  went  forth  a 
decree  that  all  the  world  should  be  enrolled  and  out  of 
Galilee  into  Judea  came  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  her 
spouse,  St.  Joseph,  to  be  inscribed  for  taxation.  They 
found  Bethlehem  so  full  of  people,  who  had  come  from 
all  parts  of  the  world  for  the  same  purpose,  that  they 
wandered  hither  and  yon  without  being  able  to  gain 
admittance  to  any  inn  or  tavern.  There  being  no  room 
for  them  in  Bethlehem,  they  left  the  town  and  came  to  a 
cave  on  the  eastern  hill,  which  served  as  a  place  of  refuge 
for  the  shepherds  and  their  flocks,  against  the  inclemency 
of  the  weather.  Here  Mary  and  Joseph  took  shelter  in 
a  manger. 

At  sunset  on  Christmas  Eve  the  mission  bells  ring  out 
a  merry  chime  and  all  the  windows  glow  with  streaming 
light,  but  when  night  comes  the  lights  are  extinguished 


200  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 
and  every  window  is  dark.  Then  there  is  a  sudden  flare 
as  the  neophytes  gather  within  the  quadrangle,  each  with 
Hghted  torch  in  hand.  They  quickly  form  in  procession 
and  with  a  statue  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  seated  on  an  ass, 
and  another  representing  St.  Joseph  on  foot,  carried  In 
front,  they  start  on  a  long  march,  singing  of  the  wander- 
ings of  Joseph  and  Mary.  With  solemn  step  they  make 
the  circuit  of  the  inner  court,  then  out  through  the  big 
gate  and  around  the  outside  walls  as  far  back  to  the 
hills  well  beyond  the  mission  confines,  finally  returning 
to  the  front  of  the  church  which  Is  found  dark  and  closed. 
Joseph  and  Mary,  In  plaintive  key,  beg  for  admittance, 
but  a  chorus  of  voices  behind  the  door  refuse  to  unlock 
It.  Then  Mary  and  Joseph,  always  in  song,  complain 
that  the  night  Is  bitterly  cold  and  that  the  wind  is  blowing 
fiercely.  Again  and  again  these  unknown  pilgrims  ask 
for  admittance,  and  again  and  again  they  are  refused. 
At  the  last  refusal,  Mary,  In  a  final  verse,  reveals  the  fact 
that  she  is  the  Queen  of  Heaven,  and  the  doors  fly  open 
to  the  chant  of  the  Rosary  and  the  litany  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin. 

Just  before   midnight,   still   with   lighted   torches   In 
hand,  the  procession  moves  to  the  altar,  where  bends  the 
Virgin  Mother  in  wonder  and  love  over  her  new-born  babe. 
"There's  a  song  in  the  air, 

There's  a  star  In  the  sky. 
There's  a  mother's  deep  prayer 
And  a  baby's  low  cry." 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  201 

Led  by  the  Angel  Michael,  a  company  of  shepherds 
enter,  dressed  in  sheepskin,  with  crooks  in  hand. 
"Lo,  peace  on  earth,  glory  be  on  high. 

Listen,  listen  to  the  gladness  of  the  cry." 

Angels  dressed  in  white  with  golden  wings  appear 
upon  the  scene: 

"Then  to  the  long  expectant  earth, 
Glad  angels  come  to  greet  His  birth." 

In  the  wake  of  the  angels  comes  a  venerable  white- 
bearded  hermit  with  tattered  missal  and  long,  sin-chastis- 
ing lash,  while  sneaking  in  behind  are  seven  imps,  repre- 
senting the  seven  deadly  sins,  dressed  in  long,  black 
cloaks.  They  endeavor  to  hinder  the  work  of  redemp- 
tion, for  this  Is  a  mimic  battle  between  Lucifer  and  the 
Archangel  St.  Michael.  As  soon  as  the  hermit,  beguiled 
by  the  tempter,  stakes  his  soul  and  loses,  Lucifer,  em- 
boldened by  success,  tries  his  wiles  upon  the  holy  shep- 
herds, but  there  he  meets  Michael,  who  recognizes  him, 
and  quailing  under  the  eye  of  that  invincible  angel, 
Lucifer  is  obliged  to  fly. 

The  end  comes  in  the  complete  victory  of  the  good 
angels  over  the  evil  spirits,  with  the  fulfilment  of  the 
prophetic  message  of  glad  tidings  brought  to  the  shep- 
herds. 

"I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall 
be  to  all  people,  for  unto  us  a  child  is  born;  unto  us  a  son 
is  given;  and  his  name  shall  be  called  Wonderful,  the 
Mighty  God,  the  Everlasting  Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace." 


202  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 
It  was  St.  Francis,  Patriarch  of  Assisi,  the  most 
beloved  among  the  saints  of  God,  who,  with  the  consent 
of  Pope  Honorius,  made  the  first  scenic  representation  of 
the  place  of  nativity,  constructing  the  first  crib  and 
grouping  around  it  the  figures  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  St. 
Joseph  and  the  ass,  the  ox  and  the  shepherds  who  came 
to  adore  the  new-born  Saviour.  So  what  more  natural 
than  that  his  followers,  the  pioneer  Franciscan  Fathers, 
should  piously  teach  their  Indian  children  not  only  the 
Posada,  in  preparation  for  the  great  festival  of  Christmas, 
but  as  well  the  miracle  play  of  Los  Pastores. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


A  LITTLE   JOURNEY  FROM   SAN  JOSE  TO   SAN  JOSE,   WITH  A 
RECITAL     OF     CALIFORNIA'S     GREAT     ROMANCE 


FROM  SAN  JOSE  TO  SAN  JOSE 

Scarcely  fifteen  miles  separates  the  city  of  San  Jose 
from  the  village  of  the  Mission  San  Jose,  yet  in  meaning 
and  influence  the  two  are  a  century  apart,  and  no  one 
can  attempt  to  understand  the  division  until  well  away 
from  the  bustling  turmoil  of  the  modern  city  and  out 
amid  the  quiet  of  the  vineyards  and  orchards,  where  the 
roadside  is  bordered  with  heavenly  yellow  blossoms,  the 
great  grandchildren,  mayhap  of  those  mustard  seeds  that 
the  Franciscan  Fathers  flung  from  side  to  side,  as  they 
traveled,  marking  the  trail  for  future  wanderings. 

In  the  sound  of  "Milpitas,"  the  first  village  on  the 
way,  there  is  a  gentle  music  that  at  once  softens  the  dis- 
cord of  the  big  city  left  behind,  and  attunes  one  to  the 
benedictions  of  this  Eden  land  where  men  "live  at  peace 
with  the  skies  and  at  friends  with  the  good  green  earth." 
Just  now  the  good  green  earth  is  a  riot  of  color,  a  land  of 

203 


204  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 
fire  as  it  was  called  in  the  early  days  when  the  pioneers 
first   saw   it,   ablaze   with   orange-colored   poppies — that 
most  ardent  blossom  of  the  fields,  of  which  Miller  sings: 
"The  golden  poppy  is  God's  gold. 
The  gold  that  laughs  not  in  the  town, 
But  singing,  laughing,  freely  spills 
Its  hoards  far  up  the  happy  hills; 
Far  up,  far  down  at  every  turn." 
All  leads  one  to  remember  that  when  the  Te  Deum 
Laudamus  of  the  mass  was  chanted  at  the  foundation 
of  La  Mision  San  Jose,  it  was  within  a  booth  adorned 
from  floor  to  ceiling  with  the  many  wild  flowers  with 
which    all    the   fields   for   miles    about   were   prodigally 
covered. 

Only  as  a  mission  home  could  this  little  town  have 
continued  to  exist,  shut  out  and  cut  off  as  it  is  from  all 
worldly  influence. 

All  unconsciously  perhaps  those  saintly  Franciscan 
Padres  acted  not  alone  as  pioneers,  but  as  promoters; 
for  whatever  pious  phrases  might  be  on  the  lips  of  the 
California  governors,  their  pocketbooks  were  never 
opened  unless  some  political  as  well  as  religious  object 
was  to  be  attained. 

Governor  Borica  very  frankly  admitted  that  a  mis- 
sion at  San  Jose  might  convert  the  bay  Indians  and 
permit  him  to  reduce  his  soldier  guard  in  numbers,  saving 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  205 
thousands  of  reals;  and  so  far  as  the  government  was 
concerned,  that  was  the  only  reason  for  the  foundation 
in  1797  of  Le  Mislon  del  Gloriolslmo  Patriarca  Senor 
San  Jose — St.  Joseph,  foster-father  of  our  Lord. 

But  this  political  goal  on  the  part  of  the  government 
was  not  out  of  harmony  with  the  religious  aims  of  the 
friars  who  found  temporal  discipline  indispensible  to  the 
best  work  of  Christianization,  as  the  Indians,  being  chil- 
dren of  fear,  were  at  first  always  more  strongly  appealed 
to  by  the  glistening  of  the  sword  than  by  the  voice  of  the 
priests — so  writes  one  of  the  fathers. 

For  this  same  reason  it  was  deemed  strategically  wiser 
to  establish  the  mission  in  the  foothills  overlooking  the 
south  end  of  the  San  Francisco  Bay,  some  fifteen  miles 
north  of  the  town  which  bears  Its  name,  and  which  even 
by  Californians  Is  still  believed  to  be  the  Mission  home, 
but  to-day's  little  religious  community  Is  known  as  the 
Village  of  the  Mission  San  Jose  not  wishing  to  be  con- 
fused with  the  worldly  modern  town  of  similar  name. 

As  a  frontier  post  the  mission  was  constantly  visited 
by  that  roaming  band  of  trappers  which  at  the  time 
overran  the  West,  and  being  as  well  the  last  safe  retreat 
for  fugitives  from  justice,  it  brought  into  the  ordinarily 
spiritual  routine  a  slight  leaven  of  secular  excitement  that 
spread  its  rumors  to  even  far-away  Salt  Lake  City,  and 
encouraged  one  of  the  mormon  missionaries  to  believe 
that  here  was  good  hunting  ground  for  converts.     But 


206  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

polygamy  was  an  old  story  to  the  California  Indian,  and 
the  mormon  messenger  being  taught  more  than  he  could 
teach,  retired  in  discomfort. 

At  the  time  of  its  foundation  San  Jose  was  the  nearest 
mission  to  the  Russian  settlements  and  furnished  them 
with  many  of  their  needed  supplies.  In  order  to  feed 
them  as  well  as  their  own  hungry  hordes,  great  fields  of 
wheat  had  to  be  cultivated,  the  mission  Indians  cutting 
the  ripened  grain  with  sickles  and  carrying  it  on  their 
backs  to  the  threshing  corral,  where  the  horses  trampled 
it  out  and  the  wind  winnowed  it.  The  cut  grain  was 
spread  on  a  level  spot  of  hard  ground,  around  which  poles 
were  driven,  forming  a  large  circle;  within  this  enclosure 
were  a  number  of  cattle  which  were  kept  in  constant 
motion,  threshing  out  the  grain  by  pressure  and  incessant 
stamping.  All  the  methods  of  primitive  days  were  still 
employed  by  the  mission  fathers,  for  land  was  not  even 
plowed,  though  an  upright  metal-pointed  stick  fixed  to  a 
beam  was  sometimes  hauled  across  the  ground.  Seed 
was  thrown  broadcast  in  time-honored  fashion,  brushed 
in  with  branches  of  trees — with  most  wonderful  results. 
The  mission  records  are  responsible  for  the  statement 
that  here  at  San  Jose  one  hundred  and  twenty  bushels 
of  wheat  were  scattered  on  unplowed  ground,  and  simply 
scratched  in,  yielding  a  harvest  of  seven  thousand  bushels 
of  grain. 

To   supply  the  enormous   amount  of  meat  needed. 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  207 
weekly  slaughters  were  necessary.  Indians  on  horseback, 
armed  with  knives,  would  be  sent  out  to  ride  at  full  speed 
over  the  grazing  fields.  When  passing  near  an  animal 
one  of  the  Indians  would  strike  it  with  his  knife  in  the 
nerve  at  the  nape  of  the  neck,  felling  it  with  one  blow. 
Following  these  horsemen  like  a  flock  of  hungry  wolves, 
came  dozens  of  men  on  foot,  who  stripped  off  the  hides. 
Next  came  others  who  cut  up  the  meat  and  the  funeral 
procession  ended  with  a  swarm  of  Indian  women  who 
gathered  the  fats  in  leather  hampers.  A  field  after  such 
a  slaughter  looked  like  Waterloo  after  the  charge  of  the 
Old  Guard.  Scattered  about  would  be  three  or  four  car- 
loads of  skulls,  ribs,  spines  and  leg  bones,  which  later 
would  be  piled  up  outside  the  corrals. 

Out  of  this  material  wealth  grew  a  more  than  usually 
prosperous  mission,  and  it  was  not  until  1840  that  the 
secularization  decline  set  in.  Though  restored  to  tem- 
poral control  as  early  as  1843,  the  great  herds  had  disap- 
peared and  the  splendid  fields  were  barren.  The  original 
church,  once  crouching  at  the  foot  of  the  hills  had  entirely 
disappeared,  an  earthquake  completing  the  ruin  begun 
by  secularization.  A  modern  steepled  building  rises  from 
out  the  wreck,  but  it  strikes  a  sharply  discordant  note 
in  a  one-time  perfect  harmony.  Why  is  it  that  a  beautiful 
religion  cannot  always  be  housed  in  a  beautiful  home.'' 
How  does  it  come  about  that  these  messengers  of  Christ, 
unwordly  and  without  experience,  were  able  to  surround 


208  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

themselves  with  a  religious  atmosphere  entirely  lacking 
in  most  of  the  church-buildings  conceived  by  architec- 
turally trained  minds? 

All  that  remains  of  the  mission  is  a  wreck  of  a  one- 
time cloister  fronted  by  a  rickety  corridor  without  arches, 
upheld  by  posts  of  wood,  covered  with  climbing  roses? 
and  known  as  the  "old  adobe." 

But  just  behind  Is  a  clump  of  gnarled,  dwarfed  trees 
that  point  the  way  to  a  small  but  once  celebrated  olive 
garden  which,  big  as  this  world  is,  quite  suffices  as  a 
perpetual  home  for  the  Dominican  Sisterhood.  Here 
women  of  eight  different  nationalities  work  together  for 
the  happiness  of  the  orphan  children  left  in  their  care. 

Running  straight  through  this  little  garden,  so  at 
peace  with  the  quiet  waters  of  the  bay  and  the  blue  sky, 
is  a  long  avenue  stationed  with  wooden  shrines  dedicated 
to  the  Queen  of  the  Most  Holy  Rosary,  and  down  it  the 
white-garbed  sisters  walk  at  their  daily  devotions. 
"Telling  four  rosaries  at  each  shrine 
For  their  salvation  and  for  thine." 

Once  there  was  a  dear  little  white-haired  lady  here  as 
the  Mother  Superior.  Her  face  was  very  sad.  She 
could  never  quite  forget,  for  under  the  white  of  the 
Dominican  Sisterhood  there  lay  a  very  human  woman's 
heart.  Oh,  certainly,  every  one  who  knows  California 
knows  her  story.     Her  world  was  small  and  she  played  a 


A  SISTER,  CONVENT  OF  DOMINICANS,  SAN  JOSE 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  209 

leading  part  in  it.  Then  she  was  superbly  beautiful, 
in  a  beautiful  land  noted  for  its  beautiful  women,  but  no 
one  could  hope  to  describe  her  exquisite  grace  of  form 
and  delicacy  of  feature  or  the  transparent  texture  of  her 
creamy  skin  through  which  the  red  blood  glowed  so 
brilliantly. 

To  Baron  Rezanov,  straight  from  Arctic  Russia  where 
he  had  passed  a  winter  of  deprivation  and  suffering  with- 
out sight  of  womankind,  Concha  Arguello  must  have 
seemed  a  veritable  vision  of  sweetness  and  grace.  When 
first  he  saw  her  she  was  dressed  in  dainty  white,  with  a 
delicate  reboza  of  lace  wrapt  about  her  shoulders,  and  in 
her  flashing  black  hair  there  glowed  a  red  rose.  Small 
wonder  that  even  this  cool,  calculating  Russian  was  cap- 
tured by  her  beauty. 

Russia,  snowbound  in  the  North,  was  turning  with 
longing  eyes  to  this  land  of  "stingless  winters"  and  Czar 
Paul  had  sent  Rezanov  to  realize  his  dream  of  peaceful 
conquest.  Despite  his  insane  political  follies  and  almost 
crazy  reign.  Emperor  Paul  had  shown  considerable 
shrewdness  in  choosing  his  ambassador.  He  was  strong- 
willed,  with  the  tenacity  of  purpose  certain  to  carry  to 
success  the  delicate  enterprise  upon  which  he  had  ven- 
tured, and  at  the  same  time  a  man  of  great  gifts  and  fine 
instincts  hardly  to  be  expected  in  a  courtier  of  the  dis- 
solute court  of  Catharine,  The  Russians  had  already 
encroached    somewhat    on    the    territory    of    California, 


210  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 
establishing  relations  with  the  Indians  by  means  of  gifts. 
Rezanov's  purpose  was  to  calm  the  fears  of  the  Call- 
fornians  while  gradually  and  insidiously  securing  a  yet 
firmer  foothold.  He  well  knew  that  his  brawny,  strap- 
ping countrymen  in  a  match  for  existence  with  indolent 
new  Spain  would  surely  come  out  the  victors,  and  he 
looked  upon  the  entire  Pacific  Coast  as  a  future  American 
Russia.  With  a  mind  crowded  by  such  ambitions,  Rez- 
anov  landed  at  San  Francisco. 

It  was  a  difficult  moment  for  Don  Luis  Arguello, 
brother  of  Concha  and  Commander-in-Chief  at  the  San 
Francisco  Presidio,  he  was  fearful  of  antagonizing  power- 
ful Russia,  yet  dreaded  the  free  admittance  of  foreigners 
into  his  defenseless  country.  But  true  to  Spanish  ances- 
try he  left  the  to-morrow  to  do  its  worst,  doing  to-day 
everything  that  could  be  done  to  show  courtesy  to  Rus- 
sia's ambassador.  And  the  very  night  of  the  arrival  a 
ball  was  given,  where  Concha  and  Rezanov  met  for  the 
first  time. 

That  Concha  should  lose  her  heart  to  this  distinguished 
stranger,  one  of  the  few  men  of  the  great  world  she  had 
ever  met,  was  an  almost  foregone  conclusion,  and  to 
Rezanov  this  youthful  coquette  was  a  revelation.  He 
permitted  himself  to  fall  in  love,  realizing  that  such  an 
alliance  would  further  his  schemes.  But  being  of  the 
Oriental  Catholic  faith,  he  was  a  heretic  in  the  eyes  of 
these  western  Catholics,  and  to  marry  Concha  he  must 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  211 

needs  get  a  dispensation  from  the  Pope  at  Rome,  the 
consent  of  the  King  of  Spain,  as  well  as  that  of  his  own 
Emperor  Alexander  who,  since  his  departure  from  Petro- 
grad,  had  been  made  Czar  in  place  of  the  murdered  Paul. 
It  meant  a  terribly  long  separation  and  a  weary  journey, 
but  love  and  ambition  won  the  day,  and  Rezanov  started 
off  on  his  quest  for  happiness  and  for  the  glory  of  his 
country,  filled  with  wondrous  anticipations. 

Months  of  exhausting  travel  followed,  and  those 
thousands  of  miles  on  horseback  with  repeated  boat 
journeys  over  half-frozen  seas  finally  sapped  even  his 
wonderful  vitality  and  stricken  with  Asiatic  fever,  his, 
dream  of  empire  and  love  days  with  beautiful  Concha 
burned  to  the  socket,  flickered  and  went  out. 

Two  years  passed  before  the  news  of  his  lonely  death 
on  the  far-away  Siberian  plains  filtered  its  way  southward, 
and  Concha  was  suddenly  made  aware  that  Life  had 
tricked  and  mocked  her.  As  day  followed  day  she  began 
to  realize  that  only  in  the  arms  of  the  Church  would  she 
ever  recover  the  peace  and  happiness  of  which  she  had 
dreamed,  and  she  wore  the  habit  of  a  Beata  until  it 
became  certain  that  she  had  found  the  inexhaustible 
source  of  all  love  when  she  became  the  Bride  of  the 
Church. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  WONDERFUL  VALLEY  OF  SANTA  CLARA  AND  DOLORES, 
THE    MISSION    OF    SAN    FRANCISCO 

Spring  in  the  Santa  Clara  Valley  reveals  the  secret 
hiding  place  of  the  long  lost  Garden  of  Eden.  Its  millions 
of  trees  are  all  garlanded  with  a  luminous  color  mist  of 
dimmest  rose  and  warmest  white,  that  surpasses  even  the 
far-famed  cherries  of  Japan.  Sweetpeas,  blanketing  the 
earth  in  great  fields,  fill  the  air  with  their  perfume.  This 
is  the  very  heart  of  blossomland,  where  one  gets  more 
thrills  to  the  acre  than  from  any  other  land  on  earth. 

Away  back  in  1792,  Vancouver,  visiting  California, 
with  his  good  ship  "Discovery,"  compared  Santa  Clara 
to  an  English  park  huddling  down  between  grizzly  moun- 
tains, that  rise  four  thousand  feet  on  either  side.  Pos- 
sibly it  was  more  pleasing  and  restful  to  the  eye  in  its 
native  state  than  now  when  mosaiced  into  thousands  of 
orchards  producing,  as  recently  ofiicially  estimated, 
1 3 ,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,- 
000  prunes.  In  the  days  of  the  gold  frenzy  it  was  the 
vegetable  back  yard   of  the   miners  where  any  willing 

212 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  213 
man  could  coin  gold  if  he  worked  for  it — the  only  way 
to  coin  it,  according  to  some.  One  poor  widow  is  said 
to  raise  here  3700  worth  of  artichokes  to  every  acre, 
every  year,  and  she  owns  fifty  acres — and  is  still  a  widow! 
Palo  Alto — tall  tree — twenty-three  miles  from  the 
Mission  Santa  Clara,  is  the  home  of  the  great  Stamford 
University,  built  on  the  site  of  the  old  homestead  and 
erected  as  a  monument  to  Governor  Stamford's  only 
child.  "Henceforth  the  children  of  California  shall  be 
my  children,"  he  is  quoted  as  saying,  and  the  resultant 
memorial  is  as  beautiful  as  the  spirit  which  conceived  it. 
An  endowment  of  thirty  millions  of  dollars  immediately 
lifted  it  from  the  sphere  of  politics,  as  not  requiring  state 
aid;  exempting  it  even  from  the  slightest  dependence  on 
tuition  fees  and  making  possible  that  paternalism  which 
can  shape  the  moral  as  well  as  the  physical  side  of  college 
life,  impracticable  in  most  universities.  Then  a  virgin 
tract  of  eight  thousand  acres,  without  a  building  any- 
where to  dictate  style  or  to  be  fitted  by  force  into  the 
general  scheme,  it  gave  an  opportunity  for  a  perfectly 
balanced  plan.  There  are  two  quadrangles,  one  com- 
pletely surrounding  the  other — an  adaptation  of  the 
Mission  San  Antonio — ^with  open  arches,  long  colonnades 
and  the  red  roofing  of  old  Spanish  days.  The  chapel, 
called  by  many  the  most  artistic  church  in  the  country, 
has  a  facade  of  mosaic  with  much  of  the  interior  decorated 
In  the  same  manner.     It  is  only  exceeded  in  extent  by 


214  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

the  famous  Capello  Real  at  Palermo. 

As  in  Santa  Clara  where  the  name  Palo  Alto  Is  the 
sole  representative  of  the  giant  redwoods  that  once 
lifted  their  branches  two  and  three  hundred  feet  high, 
so  St.  Mathew's  County — San  Mateo — calls  attention 
to  her  once  noble  forest  in  the  town  of  Redwood.  It  is 
a  busy  little  place  of  no  pretense,  quite  unlike  the  city  of 
San  Mateo,  only  three  miles  further  along,  which  on  a 
banner  of  bunting  stretched  across  the  road  boasts  the 
charms  of  its  magnificent  hotel.  "The  impressive  mag- 
nitude of  the  main  lobby  with  oaken  walls  embellished 
with  hand-carved  ornamentation." 

But  this  is  California,  remember. 

Soon  comes  Burlingame,  the  summer  home  of  fash- 
ionable San  Francisco,  the  stage  for  the  frolics  of  the 
modern  friars.  That  Is  the  Burlingame  off  the  highway, 
where  the  roads  zig-zag  and  cris-cross  at  every  angle, 
leaving  coy  little  houses  tucked  away  in  roadside  corners 
to  give  friendly  greeting — though  there  are  many  big 
ones  planted  on  distant  lawns  in  somewhat  scornful 
isolation — ^but  big  or  little,  all  smothered  in  flowers  with 
so  resultant  a  warmth  of  color  that  it  draws  the  sting  of 
the  scornful  and  makes  more  friendly  the  greeting  of  the 
wayslder. 

Quite  different  this  from  the  Atlantic  Coast,  where 
the  country  in  summer  Is  sought  by  city  dwellers  In  search 
of  coolness.     Here  the  San  Franciscans  leave  their  city 


.5ft- 


IHK  MISSION  OF  DALORF.S  TO-DAY 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  215 

In  summer  for  the  sake  of  the  bright  warm  sunshine  that 
bathes  the  countryside.  Only  twenty  miles  of  roadway, 
without  bump  or  jump,  takes  one  well  away  from  the 
cold  winds  and  the  damp  fogs  that  much  of  the  summer 
crawl  In  scarves  among  the  hundred  hills  of  the  city  of 
Saint  Francis. 

A  bustling  city  covers  the  spot  where  Ortega  and  his 
comrades  stood  looking  over  an  arid  waste  towards  the 
smiling  waters  of  the  bay  beyond.  It  is  a  gay  city  of 
airy  inconsequence  that  now  lies  along  the  muddy 
shallows. 

But  it  is  the  home  of  the  mission  Dolores. 

DOLORES 

The  Bay  of  San  Francisco  and  the  site  upon  which  the 
present  city  Is  built  were  discovered  in  1769  by  Jose 
Ortega,  Sergeant  of  the  Portola  Expedition  in  search  of 
Monterey.  Failing  to  find  Monterey,  as  they  supposed, 
the  explorers  pushed  further  North,  to  the  eventual  dis- 
covery of  San  Francisco.  When  on  their  return  they 
reported  this  "find"  to  Padre  Junipero  Serra,  he,  as  a 
faithful  Franciscan,  expressed  unbounded  joy,  remember- 
ing his  conversation  with  the  Don  Galvez  who  had 
planned  the  expedition  of  conquest.  Galvez,  it  seems, 
had  arbitrarily  assigned  San  Diego,  Monterey  and  San 
Buenaventura  as  names  for  missions,  making  no  mention 
of  the  founder  of  the  Franciscan  Order  which  controlled 


216  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

the  religious  end  of  the  enterprise.  On  Serra  remonstra- 
ting with  Galvez  he  replied:  "If  Saint  Francis  desires  a 
mission,  let  him  show  us  his  harbor,  and  he  shall  have 
one."  Serra  firmly  believed  that  Saint  Francis  had  taken 
this  literally  and  miraculously  interposed  to  conceal 
Monterey  and  lead  the  adventurers  to  San  Francisco 
in  proof  that  he  wished  that  mission.  When  notified, 
Don  Galvez  also  accepted  the  discovery  as  a  miracle  and 
piously  assented  to  a  dedication  to  Saint  Francis.  This 
dedication  took  place  in  October,  1776,  with  all  the 
ceremony  possible.  When  the  walls  of  the  little  brush- 
wood chapel  had  been  gaily  dressed  with  flags  and  pen- 
nants, the  image  of  Saint  Francis  was  borne  in  solemn 
procession — a  preparation  of  the  hearts  of  the  faithful 
for  the  holy  sacrifice  of  the  mass.  As  the  procession 
moved  in  solemn  step  around  the  church  plaza,  the 
priests  chanting  sacred  hymns,  sprinkled  the  people  with 
holy  water,  for  the  truly  faithful  seek  to  take  part  in  the 
mass  with  a  conscience  devoid  of  offense,  and  they  are 
sprinkled  with  the  water  sanctified  by  solemn  benedic- 
tion to  symbolize  the  necessity  of  such  internal  purity. 
On  returning  to  the  church  the  sacred  image  was  placed 
upon  the  altar  and  the  foundation  mass  was  sung,  the 
Saint  being  invoked  as  patron  of  the  new  mission  to  the 
roar  of  the  guns  of  the  good  ship  "Golden  Fleece"  and 
the  fusilade  of  the  soldier  guard.  The  mission  was 
called  San  Francisco  or  Dolores.     Properly  it  is  the  Mis- 


THK  MAIN  AITAR  OK  MISSION  DOLORES,  SAN  FRANCISCO 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  217 

sion  of  San  Francisco  de  Assisi  at  Dolores;  for  the  name 
Nuestra  Senora  de  los  Dolores — Our  Lady  of  Sorrows — 
was  first  given  to  the  lagoon  beside  which  the  buildings 
of  the  mission  were  erected,  and  they  borrowed  the  name 
of  the  creek  which  honored  the  sorrows  of  Mary. 

Architecturally  the  church  dedicated  in  1782  sounds 
quite  a  different  note  than  any  of  the  other  missions, 
showing  distinctive  features  of  both  Moorish  and  Corin- 
thian, as  well  as  the  so-called  "mission" — the  facade 
being  adorned  with  four  massive  pillars  and  an  arched 
doorway  with  four  arches  above,  in  which  hang  the 
bells.  To-day  the  wide-spreading  eaves,  the  gentle 
sloping  roof  crowned  with  a  glistening  cross  is  like  some 
exquisite  picture  carelessly  thrown  on  the  rubbish  heap 
of  forgetfulness,  but  like  the  lotus  of  Japan,  growing  in 
muddy,  stagnant  water,  it  symbolizes  purity  in  the  midst 
of  sin. 

Vancouver  tells  us  that  on  his  first  visit  the  roofs 
were  still  of  thatch,  and  the  dwellings  of  the  Indians  were 
only  huts  of  willow,  entwined  with  tv/igs  and  covered 
with  grass.  These,  he  says,  were  infested  with  every 
sort  of  filth;  refuse  food  was  left  wherever  it  happened  to 
drop,  and  vermin  flourished  plentifully.  When  in  time 
these  huts  became  absolutely  uninhabitable,  the  Indians 
merely  set  fire  to  them  and  erected  others  on  the  same 
inexpensive  plan. 

Dolores  was  the  one  mission  where  sentiment  alone 


218  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

dictated  the  foundation,  and,  materially  never  prosperous, 
as  the  soil  was  woefully  poor,  the  decline  after  seculariza- 
tion was  even  more  rapid  than  usual.  "If  any  one  of 
the  old  priests  who  is  buried  close  to  the  grey  walls  could 
suddenly  rise  from  his  narrow,  damp  grave  and  see  the 
change,  he  would  wring  his  skeleton  hands  in  dismay," 
so  writes  a  San  Franciscan  in  1835.  The  church  tried  to 
maintain  its  old  place  as  the  Spaniards  were  still  in  the 
majority  and  too  much  attached  to  their  religion  not  to 
defend  their  sanctuary,  with  all  the  stubbornness  of  their 
national  character.  But  heretics  and  foreigners  quar- 
tered themselves  in  the  old  apartments  of  the  priests, 
while  some  of  the  mission  buildings  were  occupied  as  a 
brewery  and  tavern;  others  as  dance  halls  and  saloons 
for  gambling.  Only  a  few  stray  Indians  were  to  be  seen, 
and  they  loitered  about  the  place,  one-half  the  time  In  a 
state  of  drunkenness,  the  other  half  basking  in  the  sun, 
only  now  and  then  when  needing  money  to  again  get 
befuddled  would  they  bestir  themselves  to  run  errands 
or  do  any  other  odd  job.  You  see,  their  wants  were  few; 
before  the  arrival  of  the  missionaries  with  so-called  civiliz- 
ing influences,  they  were  still  less.  In  those  free  and  easy 
days,  whenever  the  weather  was  raw,  they  merely 
coated  their  bodies  with  black  mud  to  protect  them  from 
the  cold,  and  as  soon  as  It  became  warm  and  pleasant 
again,  just  washed  it  oflF  to  enjoy  their  accustomed 
nudity.     Once  on  a  very  cold   morning.   Padre  Danti 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  219 

asked  a  perfectly  naked  Indian  If  he  wasn't  cold.  The 
Indian  replied  that  he  was  not;  but  seeing  a  dubious 
smile  on  the  padre's  face,  inquired:  "Is  your  face  cold?" 
"Why,  no,"  replied  the  priest.  "Well,"  retorted  the 
Indian,  "I  am  all  face." 

Saint  Francis,  a  man  of  really  remarkable  character, 
was  born  in  the  little  town  of  Assisi,  Italy,  in  1182,  and 
because  of  the  fact  that  as  a  child  he  could  speak  the 
language  of  France,  was  named  Francis. 

As  might  be  expected  of  a  youth  of  spirit  and  fortune 
in  those  days,  he  lived  a  gay  and  riotous  life  until  called 
to  the  war  which  had  broken  out  between  his  native  town 
and  a  neighboring  city.  There  he  was  captured  and  kept 
a  prisoner  in  close  confinement  for  over  a  year,  and  during 
those  awful  hours  of  loneliness  and  solitude  he  brooded 
over  the  immensity  of  his  sins  and  the  frightful  abyss 
between  the  life  he  had  lived  and  the  life  he  ought  to 
lead.  Filled  with  remorse  he  solemnly  swore  that  upon 
his  release  he  would  forever  renounce  the  world  and  live 
only  the  life  of  mortification,  then  generally  supposed  to 
be  for  the  service  of  God.  Unable  to  do  things  by  halves, 
he  became  terribly  earnest  in  his  religious  enthusiasm 
and  by  rigid  fasting  brought  himself  close  to  death's  door. 
Sleepless  and  incessant  contemplation  wrought  his  imagi- 
nation into  a  frenzy,  and  before  long  he  persuaded 
himself  that  he  saw  visions  and  dreamed  dreams.     One 


220  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

day,  while  praying  in  an  old  dilapidated  church,  he  heard 
a  voice  from  the  crucifix  calling  upon  him  to  repair  the 
falling  walls  of  Christ's  house.  He  at  once  sold  every- 
thing he  possessed,  turning  over  the  proceeds  to  the 
priest,  and  offered  himself  as  a  common  laborer  until  the 
necessary  repairs  were  completed. 

Neither  his  father's  threats,  the  gibes  of  his  former 
friends  and  companions,  nor  popular  ridicule  could  turn 
him  from  his  purpose.  The  more  he  was  opposed  the 
more  firm  he  became  in  his  determination  to  cast  every- 
thing aside  and  follow  Christ.  He  accepted  the  life  and 
example  of  Christ  as  his  most  literal  rule.  He  stripped 
himself  of  his  ordinary  clothing  and  put  on  a  cloak  of  the 
coarsest  material  to  be  found,  following  the  life  of  a 
beggar  and  sleeping  upon  the  ground  with  a  block  of 
wood  or  a  stone  as  his  pillow.  He  ate  his  scanty  food 
with  ashes  strewn  upon  it  and  scourged  himself  cruelly. 
In  mid-winter  rolling  himself  on  the  snow  and  ice  to 
extinguish  the  sensual  fires  within.  He  fasted  and  prayed 
and  preached;  he  shed  tears  so  copiously  as  to  become 
almost  blind,  and  in  nearly  every  conceivable  way  he 
cultivated  what  to  others  must  have  appeared  the  most 
abject  misery.  But  his  enthusiasm  Increased  rather  than 
diminished  and  his  ardor  became  rapture,  his  rapture 
ecstasy.  Finally  he  came  to  believe  that  he  received 
visits  and  communications  from  Christ,  and  the  saints, 
and    so    persistent    and    constant    was    his    vision    that 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  221 
according  to  the  legend,  he  was  rewarded  with  the  Impres- 
sion of  the  stigmata.  In  other  words,  he  was  supposed 
to  be  so  entirely  given  up  to  piety  and  godliness  and  to 
be  so  perfect  in  the  imitation  of  Christ  as  even  to  bear 
like  Him  the  marks  of  the  crucifix  and  passion. 

A  persistent  life  of  this  kind  In  whatever  light  It  might 
be  looked  upon  in  these  days,  could  not  fail  in  those  to 
attract  attention  and  admiration.  Was  this  not  truly 
the  life  of  one  who  was  laying  up  treasures  in  heaven  in 
doing  all  that  was  required  by  the  Scriptures  to  Inherit 
eternal  life?  Had  he  not  sold  all  that  he  possessed, 
given  to  the  poor,  taken  up  his  cross  and  followed  Christ? 
Was  there  not  every  reason  to  believe  him  sincere,  and 
If  sincere  was  it  possible  for  anyone  to  pursue  more 
strictly,  either  according  to  the  spirit  of  the  letter,  the 
directions  of  Holy  Writ?  Believed  to  be  sincere  and 
living  In  an  age  of  faith,  he  could  not  fail  to  have  fol- 
lowers as  well  as  admirers.  Prominent  men  partaking 
of  his  spirit  desired  to  Imitate  him  and  become  his  com- 
panions. A  rich  merchant  in  whose  house  he  had  once 
been  a  guest  first  led  the  way  by  selling  all  his  estate, 
distributing  It  among  the  poor  and  associating  himself 
in  the  devotions  and  labors  of  his  friend.  Another  and 
another  followed  the  example  thus  set,  and  by  degrees 
the  company  increased  into  the  commencement  of  a 
great  order.  The  new  members  as  they  came  in  adopted 
the  same  dress  that  Francis  wore:  a  robe  of  coarse  grey 


222  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

serge,  tied  about  the  waist  with  a  hempen  rope,  later 
called  the  Saint  Francis  Girdle,  which  tied  about  the 
middle  falls  almost  to  the  feet  and  is  used  as  a  lash  of 
discipline,  for  which  purpose  it  has  several  large  knots 
towards  the  end,  called  "stings." 

The  beginning  of  this  order  dates  from  1209  and  its 
progress  was  so  rapid  that  ten  years  later  it  numbered 
over  5,000  members.  In  less  than  fifty  years  after  the 
death  of  the  founder  it  counted  over  200,000  members, 
with  8,000  monasteries  and  convents;  and,  as  we  have 
seen,  more  than  five  hundred  years  later  was  sowing  the 
long  road  between  San  Diego  and  Sonoma  with  missions, 
and  building  to  the  memory  of  St.  Francis  himself  that 
one  work  with  which  we  have  just  dealt. 


CHAPTER  XX 

ACROSS     THE     WATERS     OF     THE     BAY    TO     THE     HOSPITAL- 
MISSION    OF    SAN    RAFAEL 

Father  Junipero  Serra  on  his  first  visit  to  Dolores 
stood  on  the  shore  of  the  great  waters,  and  gazing  over  the 
wide  expanse  of  the  bay  is  said  to  have  given  thanks  to 
God  that  St.  Francis  with  the  holy  cross  of  the  procession 
of  missions  had  reached  the  last  limit  of  the  California 
continent — "To  go  further,"  he  added,  "one  must  go 
by  boat." 

And  much  of  the  way  to  San  Rafael  is  by  boat — across 
San  Francisco  Bay  to  Contra  Costa — the  modern  Oak- 
land, a  friendly  sort  of  a  city,  so  near  to  Berkeley  that 
their  borders  melt  in  together.  Berkeley  is  the  educa- 
tional beacon  light  of  the  Pacific  Coast,  and  was  referred 
to  long  ago  by  Bishop  Berkeley,  after  whom  the  uni- 
versity is  named,  in  his  prophetic  line:  "Westward  the 
course  of  empire  takes  its  flight."  Berkeley  has  a  hilly 
campus  of  nearly  three  hundred  acres,  giving  a  wonderful 
view  of  the  Golden  Gate.  Looking  from  her  gentle  hills, 
writes  the  poet  of  the  West,  you  behold  a  vista  that  is 

223 


224  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

surpassed  only  by  the  Golden  Horn,  Including  the  silvery 
ripples  of  the  great  bay,  and  beyond  them  the  gleam  of 
the  mountains  whose  wall  in  some  early  epoch  was 
broken  and  hurled  asunder  to  make  way  for  the  Golden 
Gate,  a  gate  that  opens  to  the  ocean  and  to  romantic 
mysteries  of  Asia. 

In  the  hills  surrounding  Richmond,  some  six  miles 
further  on,  are  many  mortar-like  depressions  made  for 
grinding  corn,  evidencing  the  horde  of  Indians  once 
living  here.  At  Richmond  there  is  more  water  and 
just  across  is  the  road  which  leads  direct  into  San  Rafael. 

But  perhaps  you  have  chosen  the  water  passage  to 
Sausalito,  perched  on  tree-covered  heights,  where  the 
road  runs  through  beautiful  redwoods,  and  by  the 
romantic  old  saw  mill  which  gives  the  valley  its  name. 
Above  Mill  Valley  towers  Mount  Tamalpais,  of  volcanic 
origin.  "The  earth  has  bubbles  just  as  water  has,  and 
Tamalpais  is  one  of  them."  It  is  a  mountain  of  memor- 
able figure,  springing  direct  from  the  sea  level,  plumbing 
the  narrow  entrance  on  the  south  where  the  loud  music 
of  the  Pacific  sounds  along  the  cliffs  and  among  the  dismal 
shifting  sand  hills  wrinkled  by  incessant  winds.  Tamal- 
pais looks  down  upon  San  Francisco,  and  all  approaching 
ships  are  first  sighted  from  its  marine  observatory.  The 
view  from  the  summit  spreads  out  the  country  below  like 
some  topographical  map,  and  only  then  does  one  truly 
appreciate    the    size    of    the    wonderful    harbor    of    San 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  225 
Francisco — the  largest  land-locked  harbor  in  the  world. 

Between  Sausalito  and  San  Rafael  is  little  of  interest, 
except  the  prison  San  Quentin,  that  living  tomb  of 
thousands  who  have  been  lured  into  the  easiest  way.  At 
San  Rafael  itself  there  is  absolutely  nothing  to  remind  one 
of  the  old  hospital  mission  except  perhaps  those  memories 
which,  hke  magic  glasses,  always  reproduce  the  pictures 
of  the  past. 

A  scourge  of  measles  had  laid  heavy  hand  upon  the 
neophytes  of  San  Francisco,  and  one  of  the  compas- 
sionate padres^  believing  that  a  transfer  across  the  bay, 
away  from  the  harsh  ocean  breezes,  might  "stem  the 
advancing  tide  of  death,"  made  so  successful  an  experi- 
ment that  the  Father  Presidente  agreed  to  found  a  hos- 
pital mission.  Of  course,  nothing  could  be  done  without 
governmental  co-operation,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  the 
foundation  was  actually  due  to  Don  Vincente  de  Sola,  the 
last  of  the  Spanish  governors,  who  again  used  the  mission 
as  a  pioneer  agency,  wishing  to  extend  still  further  north- 
ward an  additional  check  to  the  much  feared  Russian 
settlers.  A  wide  survey  of  the  North  was  ordered — the 
last  expedition  made  in  California  under  Spanish  rule. 
It  was  like  the  first  Portola  exploration  in  1769,  with 
much  the  same  objects  and  methods.  They  chose  as  the 
site  for  the  Mission  San  Rafael  one  of  the  most 
picturesque,  as  well  as  healthful  spots  in  all  California. 


225  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

"Looking  southward,  one  saw,  less  than  a  mile  distant, 
a  long,  steep  ridge  densely  covered  with  green  foliage. 
High  over  this,  some  five  miles  further,  rose  the  deep 
purplish-blue  peak  of  Mount  Tamalpais.  To  the  right 
the  view  was  closed  in  by  wooded  hills,  but  to  the  left 
it  opened  out  miles  of  bay,  with  small  islands  in  sight, 
beyond  which  could  dimly  be  seen  the  double-humped 
summit  of  Mount  Diablo." 

Amid  these  glorious  surroundings  a  mission  was 
dedicated  to  the  yet  unrepresented  Archangel  San  Rafael. 
The  Archangel  Rafael  being  chosen  as  patron  saint  In 
order,  as  the  records  state,  that  the  most  glorious  prince, 
who  in  his  name  expresses  the  healing  of  God,  might  care 
for  bodies  as  well  as  for  souls. 

It  was  a  somewhat  composite  building.  Including 
such  apartments  as  might  be  needed  for  a  sanatorium, 
with  no  attempt  made  to  beautify  the  place  architec- 
turally. The  church,  like  most  of  those  In  Northern 
California,  never  much  to  look  at  was  decorated  more  or 
less  in  a  tawdry,  unpleasant  style  often  seen  in  the  poorer 
churches  of  Spain.  Of  course  there  were  the  usual 
quarters  for  the  workers  as  well  as  for  the  unmarried 
men  and  women,  and  every  evening  one  could  see  at 
the  door  of  the  monjerio  an  old  Indian  woman  who  held 
in  her  hand  a  list  of  names  which  she  checked  as  the  girls 
one   by   one   went   In   for   the   night.     When   all   were 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  227 

accounted  for,  the  matron  locked  the  door  and  took  the 
key  to  the  Father,  making  her  report. 

At  about  eight  or  nine  years  of  age  all  Indian  girls 
were  brought  to  this  nunnery,  where  they  were  carefully 
reared  in  seclusion,  being  taught  all  womanly  occupa- 
tons.  With  them  were  the  widows  who  it  is  said,  at 
the  death  of  their  husbands,  always  lamented  this  con- 
finement, which  was  certain  to  follow,  as  much  as  they 
mourned  for  the  dear  departed.  Locked  in  at  night,  they 
were  released  only  at  the  sound  of  the  bell  for  prayers, 
then  going  first  to  church  and  after  to  break  their  fast  at 
the  pozolera,  where  they  remained  until  time  to  com- 
mence the  daily  task.  They  were  supposed  to  live  in 
this  monjerio  until  married. 

Picture,  if  you  can,  a  low  stone  structure  built  around 
a  patio,  with  a  huge  fountain  in  the  center.  Here  in 
seclusion  the  Indian  girls  would  bathe,  gossip  and  work, 
but  despite  the  seclusion  and  the  vigilance  of  the  old 
Indian  matron,  many  a  dark-eyed  maiden  arrests  the 
attention  of  some  stalwart  brave,  who  could  always  coax 
the  padre  to  intercede  for  him.  But  generally  all  the 
unmarried  neophytes  would  be  summoned  to  church, 
once  in  so  often,  and  arranged  along  the  wall — the  women 
on  one  side,  the  men  on  the  other.  Then  would  the 
good  padre  ask  the  men,  one  by  one,  which  of  the  women 
opposite  they  chose  to  marry.     If  any  selected  a  woman 


228  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

showing  an  unwillingness  to  accept  him,  he  had  to 
choose  again.  On  asking  the  women,  if  several  women 
chose  the  same  man,  and  he  manifested  no  preference, 
their  names  were  thrown  together  in  a  hat  and  the  man 
drew  one  out.  Even  so,  these  marriages  were  as  happy  as 
many  of  those  in  other  lands  under  other  laws,  and 
hundreds  of  contented  homes  grew  up  around  the  mission 
walls. 

One  of  California's  oldest  native  sons,  over  the  cup 
that  cheers,  still  reminisces  about  the  good  old  days  and 
tells  how  at  secularization  the  Mission  San  Rafael  was 
granted  from  out  her  once  wide  possessions  only  the  little 
plot  of  ground  on  which  the  sacred  building  stood. 
Fremont  took  possession  at  the  time  of  the  bear-flag 
revolution,  and  the  buildings  suffered  cruelly  under  his 
occupancy. 

To-day  not  a  vestige  remains;  except  perhaps  a  few 
old  trees  in  the  padre's  orchard — that  is  all. 

Mexico  was  in  arms  against  Spain,  and  Don  Pablo 
Vincente  de  Sola,  the  last  Spanish  governor  of  the  Cali- 
fornians,  was  to  be  inaugurated  with  unusual  ceremony 
and  rejoicing.  Making  ready  for  the  great  occasion, 
broad  covered  corridors  were  built  around  the  plaza. 
Their  pillars  were  decorated  with  festoons  of  evergreen, 
while  all  the  adjoining  houses  were  ornamented  in  a 
similar  manner  with  flowers  and  boughs  of  pine.     Mis- 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  229 

sionarles,  commanding  officers  of  the  military  posts  and 
all  the  important  men  of  the  colony  were  present,  when 
Governor  Sola,  accompanied  by  the  officers  of  his  staff, 
amidst  the  roar  of  artillery  walked  to  the  church  where 
twenty  priests  assisted  by  sixty  Indian  musicians  were  in 
waiting  to  chant  the  Te  Deum.  The  troops,  both  military 
and  cavalry,  were  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  church  which 
was  crowded  with  gente  de  razon  of  the  presidio  and 
ranchos.  Those  that  could  not  find  entrance  knelt  in 
the  plaza  or  in  the  corridors. 

The  cavalry  wore  their  sleeveless  bullet-proof  jackets 
of  buckskin,  trousers  of  dark  cloth  and  low-crowned  hats. 
On  their  left  arms  were  rough  shields  made  from  bull- 
hide  and  in  their  right  hands  ten-foot  lances.  They,  too, 
knelt  during  the  ceremony,  but  sprang  to  their  mettle- 
some steeds  the  moment  it  was  over  and  stood  at  atten- 
tion while  the  governor,  followed  by  a  gorgeous  procession, 
marched  to  the  flagstaff  in  the  center  of  the  plaza  and 
saluted  the  royal  lion  of  Castille. 

Immediately  after,  twenty  young  damsels  came 
forward,  a  dar  el  besamano  a  su  senora  on  behalf  of  their 
parents,  tendering  their  felicitations  to  the  Governor  on 
his  accession  to  power.  Then  following  the  usage  and 
fashion  of  the  time,  they  kissed  the  Governor's  hand,  and 
history  tells  that  the  Governor  liked  it  and  would  not 
have  objected  to  more. 

By  this  time  all  were  quite  ready  for  luncheon,  where 


230  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

there  were  luscious  oranges  and  pomegranates  from  the 
mission  at  Obispo,  enormous  ripe  olives  from  San  Diego, 
figs  and  preserved  dates  from  Buenaventura,  sweet 
bread  and  cakes  from  the  Mission  of  San  Antonio,  with 
good  red  wine  from  San  Fernando.  So  bountiful  was  the 
supply  that  after  the  Governor  and  his  party  had  finished, 
orders  had  to  be  given  to  put  up  other  tables  and  call  in 
the  populace,  about  five  hundred  of  whom  were  fed. 

At  nightfall  the  church  as  well  as  the  houses  and  even 
the  trees  were  ablaze  with  light — ^little  clay  vessels  con- 
taining suet  and  wick,  and  the  men  and  women,  old  and 
young,  romped  and  danced  in  the  courtyard  to  the  strum- 
ming of  the  guitar. 

The  next  day  on  horseback  the  Governor  took  the 
road  to  Monterey,  going  through  a  dense  forest  of  pine 
where  were  placed  many  great  crosses,  significant  of 
Christ's  suffering.  But  they  had  not  gone  far  before  a 
band  of  choristers  appeared,  all  wearing  newly  washed 
robes,  attended  by  many  young  Indians  in  the  dress  of 
acolytes.  They  were  closely  followed  by  the  padres 
marching  in  two  wings,  merging  on  a  center  where  was  a 
crude  platform  bearing  a  crucifix.  Coming  next  were  a 
horde  of  "white-washed"  savages  to  the  number  of  two 
thousand,  each  carrying  a  flowering  branch  in  his  hand. 
The  governor  and  his  officers  immediately  dismounted, 
and  walked  to  the  center  where  the  crucifix  was  presented 
by  the  Presidente  of  the  mission.     One  by  one  they  kissed 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  231 

the  feet  of  the  effigy  and  then  continued  their  journey  to 
the   mission. 

This  was  the  last  ceremony  of  the  kind  held  in  Cali- 
fornia. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THROUGH     ORCHARDS    AND     VINEYARDS    TO     SOLANO THE 

MISSION     AND     THE     HOME     OF     THE     BEAR-FLAG 
REVOLUTION 

On  entering  Sonoma  County  one  may  travel  for  miles 
in  a  scenic  setting  not  unlike  that  of  the  Champagne 
District  of  France.  Here  are  those  long  stretches  of 
green  vineyards  where  was  grown  most  of  the  fruit  that 
in  the  old  happy  days  produced  annually  fifty  million 
gallons  of  wine  in  California. 

The  wine  pressers,  largely  French  and  Italian,  as  is 
always  their  habit,  have  transplanted  to  his  new  home 
many  of  the  picturesque  customs  of  their  native  land,  and 
each  year,  when  the  grapes  are  bursting  with  "the  blood 
of  October"  Bacchus  is  feasted  and  in  gala  costume  the 
workers  dance  in  procession  through  the  ripening  vine- 
yards. 

Leading  the  procession  are  the  very  old,  wrinkled  with 
age,  representing  Winter.  Coming  after  are  boys  and 
girls  clad  in  white,  emblematic  of  youthful  Springtime, 
skipping  their  way  to   the   music  of  0  Printcmps  belle 

232 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  233 
saison.  Then  maturing  Summer  placidly  follows,  full- 
bosomed  peasants,  invoking  the  blessings  of  Mother 
Earth.  0,  noire  mere  eternelle  et  feconde  Terre  sacree 
entends  nos  chants.  Last  in  line  is  Autumn,  crowned  with 
leaves,  riotously  forgetful  of  the  sorrows  and  hardships 
of  coming  winter.  The  women  are  dressed  in  dazzling 
saffron,  the  men  in  imitation  tiger-skins.  All  carry  on 
their  shoulders  baskets  of  grapes  or  pull  with  ropes  of 
vine  rustic  carts  overflowing  with  fruit  which  they  pitch 
into  the  wine  press  to  the  chanting  of  the  bacchanal: 
0,  Bacchus  fais  ruisseler  le  sang  d'Octobre  aux  cuvees  des 
pressoir. 

Then  to  the  songs  of  the  God  of  Wine  is  danced  the 
dance  of  Canephores.  As  if  driven  by  a  strong  wind, 
the  dancers  whirl  round  and  round  the  basket  bearer, 
fluttering  over  their  heads  bits  of  cloth  tinted  to  all  the 
shades  of  dead  grape  leaves — ^bright  red  to  brown,  yellow 
to  gray — circling  closer  and  closer  to  the  Goddess,  they 
at  last  fall  at  her  feet,  like  dead  leaves  strewn  on  the 
ground  and  the  fruit  is  ready  for  the  reaper. 

The  natives  with  contempt  for  all  foreign  ways  stick 
to  alfalfa,  and  in  this  wonder  land  the  "never  quitter" 
springs  out  of  the  irrigated  fields  six  times  every  year,  and 
still  the  farmers  grumble  "Why,  I  thought,"  says  one, 
"when  I  had  done  the  planting  and  got  the  water  going 
I  would  take  it  easy,  but  the  durned  stuflf  grows  so  fast 
it  keeps  me  jumping  to  get  it  cut." 


234  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

When  Luther  Burbank,  prime  minister  of  Ceres  and 
plant  wizard,  wished  a  rich  soil  and  balmy  air,  where  did 
he  go?  Why,  here!  And  with  patient  cunning  year  by 
year  he  keeps  wresting  from  Mother  Earth  her  innermost 
secrets. 

Just  as  keen-sighted  were  the  friars  of  the  olden  days 
when  they  chose  this  for  the  home  of  the  Mission  Solano. 

The  last  "bead"  on  the  mission  rosary  Is  Sonoma, 
and  with  Sonoma  have  been  strung  twenty-one  stations 
of  prayer.  That  mission  came  Into  existence  under  a 
cloud  of  wordy  warfare  between  the  religious  and  secular 
authorities.  Father  Altlmira,  an  Inexperienced  and  con- 
ceited young  friar,  to  quote  the  records,  believing  him- 
self wiser  than  his  superiors,  urged,  and  with  the  full 
support  of  the  Government,  that  a  new  Mission  San 
Francisco  should  be  founded,  intending  to  suppress  the 
old,  being  disgusted  with  the  climate  and  future  prospects 
of  Dolores.  But  It  was  that  enterprising,  Independent, 
first  Mexican  governor  who  actually  instigated  Father 
Altlmira  to  his  blind  insubordination.  A  man  of  great 
Individuality  and  a  keen  student  In  his  little  world,  Luis 
Arguello  carried  his  liberal  ideas  into  every  walk  of  life, 
social  as  well  as  political.  It  was  about  this  time  that  the 
foreign  waltz  was  Introduced,  and  quickly  went  both  to 
the  feet  and  the  heads  of  the  entire  countryside.  The 
Spanish  el  jota  and  contradanza  were  discarded  as  old- 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  235 

fashioned,  and  the  young  senorltas  night  after  night 
whirled  about  like  mad  in  the  delicious  excitement  of 
this  new  sensuous  dance.  Parents  shuddered  and  priests 
shouted,  but  to  no  avail.  Finally  the  bishop  issued  an 
edict  threatening  all  with  excommunication  who  waltzed 
either  in  public  or  private,  throwing  the  young  people 
into  a  panicy  gloom,  for  they  dreaded  excommunication 
with  all  their  pious  little  souls.  The  very  night  this  edict 
came  into  force  there  was  a  dance,  but  no  dancing,  until 
someone  appealed  to  Luis  Arguello,  when  he  merely 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  saying  that  he  was  neither  a 
bishop  nor  an  archbishop,  and  had  no  jurisdiction  over 
dancing,  but  if  he  knew  how  and  felt  like  it,  he  would 
certainly  waltz  as  much  as  he  pleased.  In  a  moment 
every  couple  in  the  room  was  again  whirling  and  the  mis- 
sionaries had  to  give  it  up,  as  was  the  case  in  every  con- 
troversy they  had  with  Arguello. 

The  Governor  had  long  felt  that  further  protection  of 
the  northern  frontier  was  badly  needed,  and  realizing  as 
did  all  politicians  that  missions  always  served  as  a  means 
of  defense,  used  the  Jesuit  Altimira  as  his  religious  tool, 
though  looking  upon  the  enterprise  as  purely  military,  and 
the  proposed  mission  as  a  sort  of  outpost  or  barrier  against 
the  Russians  and  the  Americans,  who  were  now  beginning 
to  pour  into  the  Far  West.  The  American  headquarters 
was  Sutters,  strongly  fortified  and  completely  sur- 
rounded by  a  four-foot  adobe  wall,  fully  eighteen  feet 


236  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

high.  Sometimes  it  held  as  many  as  five  hundred 
American  immigrants  within  its  protecting  walls.  This 
was  the  spot  where  the  excited  Marshall  brought  the 
first  grains  of  gold  to  the  half-visionary  Sutter,  two 
dreamers,  who  for  a  day  and  a  night  held  in  their  hands 
the  destiny  of  the  West. 

Hence  it  came  about  that,  In  this  Valley  of  the  Moon — 
the  beautiful  oak-covered  vine-bearing  valley  of  Sonoma, 
so  abundantly  watered  as  to  be  called  the  fountainhead 
of  fountains.  Father  Altimira  illegally  raised  the  cross  of 
foundation  on  July  4,  1823.  As  the  cross  rose  the  soldiers 
fired  volley  upon  volley  in  salute,  while  the  Christian 
Indians  sang  hymns  of  praise  and  adoration.  Several 
lighted  candles  were  placed  at  the  foot  of  the  cross  and 
one  upon  each  arm.  As  soon  as  the  cross  was  sprinkled 
and  perfumed  with  frankincense  all  knelt  before  it  in 
prayer,  bowing  their  heads  and  saying:  "0  crux  ave  spes 
unica^^ — "Hail  thou  Cross,  our  only  hope — ^behold  the 
wood  of  the  cross  on  which  the  Saviour  of  the  world  was 
extended.     Let  us  come  and  adore." 

Nine  months  later  the  church  was  dedicated  with  full 
ceremony.  Three  crosses  were  hung  on  each  wall  and 
over  each  cross  was  placed  a  candle;  those  twelve  candles 
representing  the  light  of  the  gospel  preached  over  the 
world  by  the  Twelve  Apostles.  The  church  was  emptied 
of  all  except  one  priest  and  the  front  door  was  locked. 
Then    other    priests    with    the    soldiers    and    neophytes 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  237 
formed  in  procession,  and  with  lighted  torches  made  the 
tour  of  the  building,  sprinkling  the  walls  with  holy 
water.  When  they  reached  the  front  door  on  their 
round,  the  officiating  priest  stopped  and  said:  "Or^mwj," 
and  all  responded :  ^^ Flectamus  Genus^^ — "Let  us  kneel." 
At  once  the  priest  went  to  the  door,  striking  it  three  times 
with  his  staff,  that  heaven,  earth  and  hell  might  yield, 
calling  out:  ^'' Attolite  portas  et  introbit  rex  gloriae^^ 
The  priest  within  responded,  "Who  is  this  King  of  Glory?" 
"It  is  the  Lord  God  Almighty;  the  God  of  Hosts!'' 
Then  all  cry  out  three  times:  "Open  the  door!  Peace 
be  in  this  house!"  To  which  the  priest  within  replied: 
"Then  thou  shalt  enter,"  and  opened  the  door.  As 
all  went  in,  singing  in  a  loud  voice,  they  repeatedly  crossed 
themselves,  effectually  to  confound  the  devil,  as  all  devils 
must  vanish  at  the  sign  of  the  cross.  Once  in  the  middle 
of  the  church  the  officiating  priest  knelt  and  began  the 
Veni  Creator,  taking  ashes  and  scattering  them  in  the 
form  of  a  St.  Andrew's  cross,  crying  out:  "We  beseech 
thee  to  hear  us,  oh  St.  Francisco  Solano!" 

Though  always  known  as  the  Mission  of  Sonoma,  its 
rightful  title  is  San  Francisco  Solano  of  Sonoma,  in  honor 
of  San  Francisco  Solano  who  joined  the  Franciscan  order 
before  he  was  twenty,  being  immediately  sent  to  Peru, 
where  he  was  to  act  as  an  Inca  missionary.  A  terrible 
storm  arose  during  his  sailing  voyage,  and  the  vessel  was 
driven  upon  a  rocky  shore,  when  the  captain  begged 


238  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

Francisco  to  come  into  the  life-boat  and  be  saved;  but  he 
refused  to  leave  certain  pagan  Indians  who  were  aboard, 
for  whom  there  was  no  room  in  the  tiny  Hfe  craft.  As 
the  storm  increased  in  violence  and  the  mighty  waves 
washed  the  decks  of  the  vessel  which  was  fast  breaking  to 
pieces,  Francisco  calmed  the  fears  of  the  pagans,  instruct- 
ing and  hurriedly  baptizing  them  in  preparation  for  death. 
"For  this  he  was  canonized  Indian  Missionary,  and  so  was 
especially  fitted  to  act  as  patron  saint  in  California. 

In  the  theory  of  law,  a  mission  once  having  intro- 
duced the  faith  among  the  heathen,  ceased  to  function. 
Designed  for  frontier  work  it  was  intended  to  be  only  tem- 
porary, ten  years  being  allowed  each  mission  to  accom- 
plish its  work,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  it  was  to  be 
turned  over  to  the  established  clergy.  Solano  had  hardly 
completed  the  ten  years  of  existence  allowed  by  the  most 
radical  secularization  measure,  when  that  first  secular 
wedge,  the  Pueblo,  was  introduced  by  order  of  the 
governor,  bringing  an  administrator  who  publicly  thanked 
God  that  the  Indians  of  the  mission  were  at  last  to  get 
their  rights.  "From  the  bottom  of  my  heart,"  he  wrote 
"I  rejoice  at  the  deliverance  of  these  poor  people  from  the 
clutches  of  these  missionaries,"  and  in  later  communica- 
tions he  recited  all  that  he  had  done  toward  that  noble 
end.  He  gathered  the  residents  of  the  mission  together 
and  told  them  they  were  free  to  go  where  they  pleased  and 
make  a  living  any  way  they  could.     At  first  he  divided  the 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  239 
flocks  among  them,  but  finding  that  the  result  was  bad 
for  their  welfare,  as  it  only  involved  them  in  quarrels, 
he  removed  the  cause  of  the  quarrel  by  taking  over  the 
cattle  himself. 

Secularization  was  followed  at  Solano  by  the  dispersal 
of  the  entire  Indian  population. 

Some  few  years  ago  necessity  outweighed  sentiment, 
and  the  bishop  of  the  diocese  sold  the  mission,  using  the 
proceeds  to  build  a  modern  church.  It  was  resold  to 
W.  R.  Hearst,  who  generously  deeded  it  to  the  State  of 
California  to  be  kept  for  all  times  as  a  monument  to 
past  glories. 

At  the  dawn  of  1845  California  was  In  the  full  spot- 
light of  the  play  staged  by  the  anti-slavery  party  of  the 
United  States.  They  ardently  desired  California  as  an 
offset  to  the  recent  acquisition  of  Texas  for  pro-slavery, 
and  had  offered  to  buy,  but  Mexico  had  refused  to  sell. 
Opportunely,  Mexico  made  war  when  Texas  declared  her 
independence.  The  Mexicans  In  revolution  at  home 
could  not  care  for  California,  and  she  also  declared  her 
independence.  But  once  detached  she  floated,  as  it  were 
in  the  air.  Inviting  somebody — anybody — to  take  her 
out  of  the  cold — a  task  much  to  the  liking  of  both  England 
and  France,  who  thought  they  saw  their  opportunity 
when  the  American  colonists,  legally  settled  on  the 
Pacific  Coast,  were  ordered  out  of  the  country  without 


240  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

compensation  or  redress.  A  company  of  Callfornlan 
cavalry  was  raised  to  drive  out  the  hated  "gringoes" 
by  Pio  Pico,  the  thirteenth  Mexican  governor,  and,  in 
view  of  the  superstitious,  very  properly  the  last. 

America  in  recognizing  the  rights  of  its  citizens  to 
protection  could  do  no  less  than  try  and  protect  them. 
This  brought  Fremont  upon  the  scene,  followed  by  Ide, 
a  tall,  broad-shouldered  frontiersman,  who  at  the  first 
rumor  that  Americans  were  to  be  driven  out  of  Cali- 
fornia had  gathered  together  a  party  of  his  friends. 
He  urged  the  taking  of  Sonoma,  the  headquarters  of 
Vallejo,  the  northern  commandant-general.  "Let's  fly 
to  Sonoma,  but  not  fly  the  country.  While  we  have 
arms  let  us  fight."  Then  this  "opera  bouffe"  war 
commenced. 

Sonoma  was  entered  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  and 
the  palacio  of  Guadelupe  Mariano  Vallejo,  diagonally 
opposite  the  Solano  Mission,  was  quickly  surrounded. 
Three  of  the  leaders  left  their  companions  and  knocked 
loudly  at  the  barred  front  door.  Soon  the  dignified 
head  of  Vallejo  appeared  at  an  upper  window,  wanting 
to  know  who  dared  disturb  his  august  person  at  this 
hour  of  the  night.  But  on  seeing  the  plaza  filled  with 
men  and  being  told  that  he  was  a  prisoner,  his  fat  chin 
began  to  tremble  and  he  hastily  withdrew,  appearing 
somewhat  later  at  the  doorway  with  a  suave  invitation 
to  the  three  Americans  to  come  within.     A  lavish  supply 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  241 

of  wine  and  aguardiente  was  brought,  in  order,  so  said 
Vallejo,  to  take  off  the  shill  of  the  cold-grey  Cahfornia 
night,  and  in  no  time  at  all  the  Americans  became  merry 
and  forgetful.  After  a  long  waiting,  fearing  disaster, 
Ide  forced  himself  into  the  house  only  to  find  one  of  his 
lieutenants  lying  across  the  table,  among  empty  glasses 
and  bottles,  asleep.  Another  was  fast  nodding  into  the 
same  condition,  while  the  third  was  valiantly  trying  to 
master  a  near-collapse.  Vallejo,  the  wily  diplomat,  had 
be-deviled  them  and  stolen  away  their  good  resolutions. 
But  Ide  at  once  turned  the  tables,  taking  charge  and  pre- 
paring articles  of  capitulation  that  announced  the 
establishment  of  a  government  on  the  principle  of  the 
Republic  of  the  United  States.  This  he  read  to  the 
assembled  crowd,  and  the  Mexican  flag  was  lowered. 
But  what  should  take  its  place?  There  happened  to  be 
an  American  woman  living  at  the  mission  who  had  come 
to  Sonoma  for  safety  at  the  first  signs  of  the  outbreak. 
The  leaders  went  to  her  and  asked  if  she  had  anything 
from  which  a  flag  could  be  made.  The  good  lady, 
thinking  for  a  moment,  said  "  I  have  a  piece  of  new  cotton. 
Will  that  do?"  "A  good  beginning,"  replied  the  man 
who  had  been  selected  as  artist.  So  taking  the  cloth  he 
laid  it  on  the  table  before  him  and  sat  down  in  deep  study. 
At  last,  turning  to  the  others,  he  asked:  "What  shall  the 
picture  be?"  "A  lone  star,"  suggested  one;  "our 
repubUc  has  only  one   State."     But  the  others,   when 


242  CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS 

asked  their  opinion,  said  "Put  a  star  in  one  corner,  if 
you  will,  but  put  a  grizizly  bear  in  the  center,  for  a  bear 
is  no  coward  when  his  dander  is  up.  He  will  fight  and 
never  run  away."  Upon  this  they  agreed,  with  the 
addition  of  "California  Republic"  in  capital  letters. 

And  the  little  group  toiled  until  midnight  with  linseed 
oil  and  Venetian  red,  filling  in  the  crude  star  and  roughly 
drawn  bear.  The  capital  letters  were  sketched  in  black 
ink,  and  then  a  stripe  of  somebody's  red  flannel  shirt  was 
basted  along  the  bottom,  so  that  there  might  be  one  stripe 
for  the  one  star. 

All  were  up  at  dawn  to  raise  the  new  flag  to  its  point 
of  glory. 

But  a  month  later  Commander  Sloat  pulled  down  the 
bear-flag  putting  "Old  Glory"  in  its  place,  and  California 
burst  irom  its  crysalis  form  at  Sonoma  and  flew  into  the 
sisterhood  of  the  United  States. 


a  I 


CALIFORNIAN  TRAILS,  INTIMATE  GUIDE  TO  THE  OLD  MISSIONS  243 


L'ENVOI 

Thus  have  we  seen  how  the  dream  of  Junipero  Serra, 
tnat  mission  stations  might  dot  the  Hne  from  San  Diego 
to  San  Francisco,  was  more  than  reahzed. 

But  the  Spanish  Franciscans  have  all  gone.  And  the 
neophytes  that  gathered  about  the  mission  doors  have 
also  disappeared — almost  utterly  as  a  race. 

The  Roman  Catholic  Church  to  be  sure,  is  here — as 
it  is  everywhere — but  it  holds  to-day  only  a  part  of  the 
people,  where  in  the  old  days  it  held  all. 

Still,  do  not  look  upon  these  missions  "as  spectres  of 
former  glory,  but  rather  as  eloquent  epitaphs  of  the  deeds 
of  their  founders,"  for  though  the  bells  be  forever  silent, 
and  the  walls  continue  to  crack  and  crumble,  all  that 
remains  deserves  to  be  reverenced  as  representing  manly 
efforts  dedicated  to  Christian  religion. 


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